The Missing Gryffindor
by augustepiphany
Summary: When Hermione disappears after a particularly violent fight with Draco, he is naturally the suspect. But Draco's innocent and when Fudge warns him that he could be in serious trouble, Draco panics and goes to find Hermione himself. COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

Harry was sitting in the Gryffindor common room, staring into the fire while polishing his Firebolt. Ron sat in the chair opposite him, holding an ice-pack to his swollen eye. The two were the only ones left in the common room, besides a small figure on the two-seater couch, but had a very legitimate reason for being there; Hermione had not come in yet. It was at least two o'clock and neither boy had stirred for hours.

'Maybe we should get Ginny to check again,' said Ron suddenly, but Harry shook his head.

'No,' he replied, 'there's no point. We know she's not in her dormitory, and she's not in the toilets either. Let Ginny sleep.'

Both boys looked fondly at the small figure on the couch, which had been running around the castle for hours, searching for Hermione. Ginny looked so peaceful while she slept that Harry didn't have the heart to wake her. Ron sighed.

'This is stupid,' he said angrily. 'Why did she have to take the Marauder's Map? How are we supposed to find her without it?'

Harry didn't answer and they again lapsed into silence. Harry was trying to think about what could have happened to her. His mind raced through the events of the last few days … and suddenly stopped on a memory from that very day.

'Ron,' he said quickly, sitting up straight. Ron looked up. 'You know how Hermione lit Malfoy's robes on fire today?'

'Yeah,' said Ron dreamily, his eyes sliding out of focus as he gave in to the memory …

_They were in the entrance hall after lunch, ready to make their way out to Care of Magical Creatures, when they heard a loud, drawling voice behind them. With Ron fuming already and Harry rolling his eyes, they turned around to look at Malfoy, bragging loudly to his fellow Slytherins._

'_What can _he _have to brag about?' said Hermione quietly to the other two. They shrugged._

'… _Told you those stupid gits couldn't keep him in for long.' Malfoy was saying. His eyes rested on Harry and he smirked. 'He escaped, just like I said he would, and now he's gone back to the Dark Lord. Of course, he has to finish a little … uh … _business_, so it might take a little while. A prison wouldn't have held my father, Potter,' he sneered, his grey eyes narrowed maliciously. 'I'm joining him these holidays, in fact, to do a little … sport …'_

'_You bastard!' spat Ron. 'You're talking about killing people, aren't you?'_

_Malfoy cocked his head to one side and looked at Ron calculatingly._

'_If I was, Weasley, I wouldn't be telling you now, would I? But …' his eyes came to a halt on Hermione and he looked her up and down slyly. 'I'd keep her around trained wizards if I were you.'_

_Harry and Ron both started forward, but Dean and Seamus latched onto their robes._

'_Let me go,' Harry growled, fury like he'd never imagined thumping through his veins, almost blinding him. Ron was putting up an equally vicious fight._

'_I'll get you, Malfoy!' he cried, accidentally striking Dean across the face as he struggled to get free._

_Hermione, however, was standing quite calmly, surveying Malfoy as though he was something intensely amusing. In fact, Harry saw a small smile playing on her lips. He stopped fighting for a moment, shocked, and Neville took the opportunity to get a hold on him too. Malfoy also seemed to see the smile._

'_What?' he snapped at her._

'_Malfoy,' she said slowly, as though addressing a child. 'I'm not intimidated by you _or _your father; he's all talk and dirty looks. And as for you …' she let out a soft laugh that the entire crowd could hear; everyone had gone into a deathly silence. '… You couldn't kill something if you wanted to; you're lacking a little something called guts.'_

_The Gryffindors laughed and Malfoy turned pink. Then he suddenly took a few steps and reached her. He grabbed her by the neck of her robes and pulled her away from Harry and Ron. The Gryffindors stopped laughing. Malfoy sneered at them and lifted Hermione a foot off the ground. Harry and Ron stood in shock: neither of them had known Malfoy had any muscle, let alone that much. Hermione made a choking sound and grabbed his wrists, trying to make him let go; the robes were cutting into her throat and stopping her air flow. Malfoy just laughed._

'_No guts, Mudblood?' he whispered. Hermione's face was starting to turn a pale blue, and Harry lunged toward Malfoy, Ron close behind, and Malfoy threw Hermione aside easily to Crabbe and Goyle, who grabbed her. Harry reached him first, and struck him across the face. As he stumbled backwards, Ron punched his stomach._

_Crabbe pushed Hermione to Blaise Zabini, and he and Goyle grabbed Harry and Ron, each punching their captor. Neville ran forward with a cry and found himself on the floor with a bruised cheek a moment later. Hermione could hear Malfoy laughing as she turned towards him. He was sporting a cut lip and a bruised eye, but he was loving the sight of Harry and Ron getting beaten. She struggled against Zabini, who laughed cruelly. The laugh, however, was turned into gasping and groaning as Hermione thrust her elbow back into his groin. She pulled out her wand before anyone saw what she'd done and yelled '_Inflamaré!' _Suddenly, Malfoy's robes caught fire and he yelped as the heat from the fire touched his skin. He yelled at Crabbe and Goyle, who dropped Harry and Ron immediately, and while they tried to remember a water charm, Pansy intervened by putting it out with her own charm._

_Seamus grabbed Hermione and pulled her back into the knot of Gryffindors. Harry and Ron limped over, both sporting injuries a little worse than Malfoy's, but not hugely bad._

'_Are you OK?' said Ron, his hand on her shoulder. Hermione nodded._

'_I'm fine.' She looked at her two friends. 'What about you, are you two OK?'_

'_Course!' said Harry, feigning cheerfulness._

'_Never better,' agreed Ron, spoiling the effect by wincing. They looked over at Malfoy and the other Slytherins, who were glaring back at them._

'_You stupid Mudblood,' hissed Malfoy, who was covered in water. Hermione just shrugged, massaging her throat, and walked away. The rest took her lead and followed her out into the bright sunlight._

Harry grinned too at the memory. 'Yeah,' he said, 'Hermione really got him. But maybe that's …'

'What?' said Ron urgently, taking his ice-pack off his eye as if to see Harry better. Harry tenderly touched the cut in his lip before continuing.

'Maybe he did something to her.'

The room seemed to echo after these words. Ron sat up straight.

'But … he wouldn't kill her would he? I mean,' he looked around nervously. 'Not in school right? Too many people…'

'No,' said Harry, shaking his head. 'Not _kill_ her, but maybe … he'd attack her, though. That he'd do.'

'Oh my God, you're right!' cried Ron, leaping to his feet. Harry also stood, his heart hammering as flashes of what Malfoy could be doing to her spun through his mind.

Ginny stirred at the sudden movement. She opened her eyes blearily and twisted into a half-sitting half-lying position.

'What's going on?' she mumbled, peering at them.

'We think Malfoy's got Hermione,' said Ron quickly. Ginny's eyes snapped open and she started to sit up fully, but because of how she was lying, she fell onto the ground. She stood up immediately and rubbed her elbow.

'But how do we find him?' she said, as Harry packed up his broomstick repair kit and pocketed his wand.

'He's probably in the Slytherin common room,' said Ron, as he and Harry headed toward the portrait hole.

'But –' Ginny ran to catch up to them. 'But – we don't even know where that is!'

Harry and Ron exchanged guilty looks.

'What?' asked Ginny suspiciously.

'Well … _we_ know where it is,' said Ron and Harry grinned sheepishly. Ginny stared at them.

'You do?' she said blankly.

'Mmm,' agreed Harry. 'Ours is much nicer, though. Warmer.'

'You've been _inside_!'

By this time they were outside in the corridor and heading towards the staircase.

'Yeah…' said Ron, avoiding her eyes.

'How? Why?'

'It's a long story,' said Harry uncomfortably. Then he looked at Ron. 'What do you suppose the password is?'

'We could try Pureblood again… I'd think they'd like that.'

Ginny pestered them all the way down to the entrance hall, where they took a left and headed down into the dungeons.

'But how did you –' she stopped talking abruptly when Ron waved his hand.

'We're here!' Harry announced cheerfully.

'Here?' said Ginny disbelievingly, staring the blank patch of wall.

'Yep,' said Ron, '_Pureblood_.' Nothing happened.

'Guess they changed it,' stated Harry. Ron was hopping from foot to foot anxiously, glancing around.

'What's the matter?' said Ginny, staring at him. 'Do you need to go to the toilet or something?'

'No,' said Ron, glaring at her. 'I'm worried about Hermione. How do we get in there?'

Harry and Ginny stared at the wall for a moment, and then began rattling off all sorts of names that Slytherins might use for a password, and even some where it was unlikely. In the end, though, they simply banged on the stone wall and yelled insults and threats.

Eventually, just when they were about to give up, the wall slid aside and a disgruntled Slytherin stood in his pyjamas, glaring at them.

'Wadda you want?' he said sleepily.

'We want to talk to Malfoy,' said Ron.

'Draco? Nah, he's in bed. Like I was.' He glared down at them. '_Some _people are trying to sleep, you know.'

Harry rolled his eyes and pushed past the Slytherin. Ron and Ginny quickly followed.

'Hey!' said the Slytherin as he was pushed aside. 'Who da hell you fink you are, burstin' in here?'

The three Gryffindors ignored him and ran across the common room, stopping in front of two doors. Ginny took the opportunity to gaze around the room, taking in the sight, knowing this would be the last time she would see it, and that her friends would all want to know about it.

'Which one's the boys'?' said Ron desperately, his eyes flicking between the doors.

'That one!' said Harry, pointing to the one on the left.

'How do you –'

'It has a 'B'.' He was right. High on the left door was a silver 'B', on the right, a 'G'.

Ron pushed it open and they hurried down the corridor, glancing at the plaques on the doors as they passed.

'There!' cried Ginny, pointing to a door near the end of the corridor that said 'Sixth Years'.

They stopped outside for a moment.

'I can't hear any screaming.' Ron whispered uncertainly.

'Maybe he's already done with her.' Ginny suggested, feeling sick even as she did so. Harry and Ron glared at her. Harry wiped his sweating palms on his jeans and swallowed back vomit. The thought of Malfoy hurting Hermione was unbearable and he nearly retched as he turned the door handle and him, Ron and Ginny ran into the room.

The dormitory was set up much like the Gryffindors' except the room wasn't round and it was decorated with green instead of red.

The trio did a quick scan of the room as they tried to decide which bed was Malfoy's. All the boys were starting to wake up, making incoherent words and sounds as they did.

'There!' said Ginny, pointing to a bed across the room. The trunk at the end was black and had the silver initials 'DM' printed on it.

They ran across the room and stopped beside Malfoy's bed. Ron wrenched the green curtains back and the three Gryffindors glared down at the stirring lump that was Malfoy. He sat up and gazed around blearily until his eyes came to rest on Harry, Ron and Ginny.

'Wha –' he began, then rubbed his eyes and peered at them again. Ginny found herself having to look anywhere but at him, for he appeared to be naked. The blankets were slumped around his middle, so it was hard to be sure, but from the waist up, he was nude. 'What the hell are _you_ lot doing _here_?' asked an alarmed Malfoy. He glanced away from them to his wand on his bedside table; he was calculating how long it would take to get it if the three lunatics attacked.

But Ron saw him and snatched it up, pocketing it with a smirk. Malfoy glared at him, and then tried to rise, but Harry pushed him down again.

'What?' Malfoy snapped at them.

'Where's Hermione?' said Harry tightly, taking deep breaths so as not to lose his temper.

'What?' Malfoy glanced between them, apparently bewildered.

'Hermione!' snapped Ron, folding his arms across his chest. 'Where is she?'

'How the hell would I know?' demanded Malfoy.

'You tell us!' Ginny growled, settling her eyes on his.

'What the hell is going on?' said Malfoy hotly. 'Why would _I _know where Granger is? And why did you burst in here in the middle of the night to ask me that?' His eyes narrowed. 'How did you know where the Slytherin common room is?'

Harry and Ron smirked.

'Wouldn't _you _like to know,' said Harry. Ginny glared at them both, but didn't say anything. Malfoy shook his head.

'Whatever Potter. Just answer the questions.'

'Not until you answer ours first!' said Ron.

'I don't know where Granger is!' said Malfoy exasperatedly. 'Why the hell would I? I was asleep, if you didn't notice –'

'Oh yeah, now you are!'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'You tell me, Malfoy!'

Draco stared at Ron. 'What?' he said again. He didn't like having to ask that so many times, but the Gryffindors weren't making any sense, not that that was uncommon.

Ron knelt on the side of the bed.

'We know you did something with Hermione, Malfoy,' he hissed. 'Tell us what you did, and where she is now.'

Draco raised an eyebrow.

'Wouldn't _you_ like to know, Weasley,' he smirked, receiving a blow to his chin for the remark. 'Bloody hell, Potter!' he yelled, trying to get out of bed and hold his face at the same time.

'Come on,' said Harry, breathing heavily, massaging his hand; Malfoy had a bony jaw. 'Get dressed; we're going to see Dumbledore.'

'What? Why? You can't make me go anywhere, Potter.'

Harry, Ron and Ginny pointed their wands at him, Ron also holding Draco's.

'Oh, alright,' he mumbled and climbed out of bed. Ginny made a small noise and looked determinedly away. 'What?' he looked down. 'Oh give me a break, Weasley; it's nothing you haven't seen before.' Ginny didn't reply. Draco looked coyly at Harry. 'Maybe not one _this _good, but… OW! Bloody Mudbloods, Weasley!' he yelped, his hand on his cheek again. 'Would you lot stop _hitting me_!'

'No,' said Ron, massaging his own hand. 'You keep making the smart comments, we keep the blows coming. Now get dressed.'

Draco mumbled something they couldn't hear and pulled on some clothes and a pair of boots. He glanced around and realised that all the boys in his year were asleep.

'How can they sleep through this?' he said heatedly. 'They're supposed to beat you up…'

'Easy Malfoy,' said Ron cheerfully, twirling Draco's wand with his fingers. 'Simple sleeping spell. They'll wake up once we've gone.'

'Great,' muttered Draco, turning back to his captors. 'Fine. Let's go see the Headmaster!' he feigned cheerfulness and bounced on the balls of his feet like he wanted nothing more than to traipse around the castle in the middle of the night, suspected for a crime he didn't even know the details of.

So with four wands in his back, Draco led the way out of the dormitory, then the common room, then up to the entrance hall where Harry took over the lead.

As they walked along the silent corridors, Ginny and Ron had a quiet conversation, while Draco and Harry thought.

'Do you really think he did something to her?' said Ginny, glancing at Draco. Ron bit his lip and looked at her out the corner of his eye.

'I'm not too sure,' he admitted. 'I think he did, but he did a pretty good job of acting ignorant.'

Ginny nodded and the two fell silent for a minute.

'He has a pretty big –'

'Don't say it.' Ron interrupted. 'Don't even _think _it.'

Ginny bit her lip to stop from smiling.

'You jealous?' she said slyly.

'No!' Ron snorted. 'What makes you think mine isn't bigger?'

Ginny gave him a look.

'Shut up.'


	2. Dumbledore's Office

**Disclaimer: **See page one. Not mine etc. etc. etc.

**Chapter 1: Dumbledore's Office**

As Harry led them through the last few corridors, he wondered if Dumbledore even slept in his office. If he didn't, they were stuffed. He also wondered where Hermione was, whether she was OK, and if Malfoy really did have anything to do with it. He'd said he didn't, but there was just something about Malfoy's personality and sly looks that Harry didn't trust. Funny about that.

If he's hurt her … Harry didn't want to say out loud what he'd do to that piece of scum.

_'I'd keep her around trained wizards if I were you.' _Did Malfoy's threat really mean something? Would he and his father really kill Hermione? Surely not… surely it was just one of the things Malfoy used to get them riled up. 

Harry glanced up in time to see the stone gargoyle that was Dumbledore's door. He stopped in front of it and Draco nearly walked into him. He glared at him, before turning back to the matter at hand.

'Er … Cockroach Cluster?' said Harry tentatively. Nothing happened. Draco snorted.

'You planned to take me to Dumbledore to confess my horrible crime, yet you didn't even get the password beforehand?'

'Shut up, Malfoy.' Ron poked him hard in the back with his wand. Draco glared at him, but said nothing.

'Ice Mice?' Harry tried. 'Um … sugar quills? Bertie Botts? Sherbet lemons?'

'What?'

Harry glared at him.

'He likes sherbet lemons,' he said defensively.

'Of course he does,' said Draco innocently, but the glint in his eye betraying him.

Ron resisted the urge to hit him across the back of the head.

'Um …' Harry, Ron and Ginny ran through all the sweets they could think of, with Draco rolling his eyes and making tut-ting noises.

'Shut up, for Christ sakes, Malfoy!' exclaimed Ginny finally, turning around to glare at him. 'You're not exactly being helpful!'

Draco stared at her.

'Helpful?' he asked incredulously. 'Why in Merlin's name should I be _helpful_? You're trying to convict me of a crime that hasn't even been properly explained to me! Why should I help you do that?'

There wasn't much she could say to that, so Ginny turned back to the gargoyle.

'I give up,' said Harry, glaring at the gargoyle. 'I can't think of anything else!

Ron and Ginny nodded, even though it hurt them to do so. They all looked at Draco.

'If you've hurt her –' Ron began, but Draco interrupted.

'I haven't done anything with Granger!' he exclaimed, sagging a little. How could he convince them of that?

'You better not have, but I think we should show you what would happen if –'

'If what, Mr Weasley?' said Dumbledore, as the gargoyle slid away. 'What's going on?' He looked curiously at Harry, Ron and Ginny, then his eyes travelled over Draco, widening as they took in his Muggle clothes and dishevelled hair. 

'What in Merlin's name - ?' he stopped and glanced up and down the hallway. 'Come in.'

Harry and Ron exchanged a grateful look, as Dumbledore saw all four of them up to his office. No one said a word until they were in his large office. Some of the portraits stirred and looked at them lazily.

'Now that's a sight you don't see every day!' exclaimed a witch in a nightdress, pointing at them. 'Gryffindors and Slytherins working together!'

No one bothered to correct her.

'Please sit,' said Dumbledore, as two more chairs joined the two already there.

They all sat, but Draco pulled his chair a few feet from the Gryffindors'.

'Would anyone like to tell me what's going on? Why were you at my office door in the middle of the night?'

They all began to talk at once, Draco stopping after a few sentences. Dumbledore held up a hand.

'One at a time. Why don't you start, Mr Weasley?'

Ron nodded, and with a glare at Draco, finally began to explain what had happened.

'We haven't seen Hermione since just after lunch, Professor. We searched the entire castle - using Ginny to check the girls' bathroom, of course!' he added hastily.

Dumbledore nodded again. 'Of course.'

'Yeah,' Ron squirmed uncomfortably. 'And when I say we searched everywhere, we searched everywhere! We even looked in the places we're not supposed to.' He hung his head in shame when he said that.

'I understand,' said Dumbledore, 'no punishment will take place.'

'So we went to get Malfoy to confess.' Here, he glanced at Draco, a look of pure loathing on his face. 

'Confess?' said Dumbledore sharply, looking at Draco himself.

'Yes, it's silly, really,' said Draco casually. 'They marched into the Slytherin dormitory – how they knew where to find us, that's what I'd like to know! – grabbed me out of bed, and marched me up here.' He leaned back in his chair. 'Ridiculous, the whole thing.'

'On the contrary, Mr Malfoy,' said Dumbledore, 'I can see why they got you.'

'What?' cried Draco, sitting up straighter. 'I didn't kidnap anybody! Where would I hide her? _Why _would I kidnap her?'

'We all know _why, _Malfoy, it's just a matter of _how!_' said Harry furiously. Draco ignored him.

'This is just great, isn't it?' he spat at Dumbledore. 'Saint Potter and friends accuse me of something, and you automatically take their side! It doesn't matter that I was in bed the entire time, does it? It doesn't matter that I have several witnesses; they're all Slytherins, what they say doesn't matter! The only people who have anything truthful to say are the Gryffindors!' He was on his feet by this time, yelling. But Dumbledore was watching him calmly.

'Sit down, Mr Malfoy; no one's accusing you of anything.'

'Ha!' But he dropped back onto the chair.

'Professor!' stammered Harry, glancing from Malfoy to Dumbledore. 'We know he did something with her; just this morning he said he and his father would kill her!'

Oh-oh. That was a little shot to Potter and co. Draco glanced up at Dumbledore. He was still watching him.

'Is that true Mr Malfoy?' His tone was calm, level, but his eyes were like a blue fire. Draco suddenly felt very insecure.

'N–no,' he stuttered, not looking Dumbledore in the eye. Usually he could lie quite well, but he was tired, and Potter'd shocked him with that little bit of information. He'd completely forgotten about their little brawl. Well, actually, no, that _was _a lie. He hadn't forgotten about it at all; just what started it. In fact, he was still fuming about Granger setting his robes alight. 'I didn't say that!' After all, that was true, wasn't it? He hadn't said he'd _kill _her. Well, not in those words, anyway.

'Liar!' Ginny screeched suddenly. 'I was coming out from the Dungeons at the time, and I saw you nearly choke her!'

Dumbledore's sharp eyes flickered form Ginny to Draco.

'You tried to choke her?'

'She insulted me!' Oops. Draco knew instantly he'd said the wrong thing. _Dang the time of night! _He thought angrily; if it'd been in the middle of the _day, _he knew he'd be much more composed and not so easily rattled. 'And besides,' he added, trying to salvage himself, 'I wouldn't have _actually _killed her.' But that didn't seem to satisfy Dumbledore, nor the others.

'Mr Malfoy,' said Dumbledore loudly, and he stood up. Now he just looked plain scary. 'You have been attacking the students?'

'Just one,' Draco squeaked, instantly kicking himself. 'But I wouldn't have actually _hurt _her, I swear!'

'You're promises are all lies!' yelled Harry, leaping to his feet. He'd never been so furious in all his life. He could feel the hatred pumping through him, like acid. All he wanted was to grab Malfoy and punch him until you could no longer see one inch of his palomino skin; he'd be completely covered in bruises. 

Draco seemed to sense that, and he stood up too, ready for a fight.

'If Granger was _my_ friend, Potter, I'd have come to Dumbledore much sooner, so don't you try and put yourself on some high pedestal!' bellowed Draco, fury taking him over too. 'You could've come so much sooner – what if she really was kidnapped? You could have stopped her being taken out of the castle if you'd acted sooner! But no, you had to act the hero and come ARRET ME!'

Harry paled and he quickly turned to Dumbledore.

'Do you think she's been taken out of the castle?' he said anxiously.

Draco felt like rolling his eyes.

'So _now _you think of that,' he snorted, sitting down again. He felt someone watching him, so he glanced at Ginny and Ron. They were both staring at him. 'What?' he snarled.

'What do you mean, if Hermione was _your _friend?' sad Ginny curiously. Everyone stopped and looked at Draco.

'What?' he said stupidly.

'Did you want Hermione to be _your _friend, Malfoy?' Ron asked him.

'What are you on about, Weasley?' said Draco, 'I just said that as an example of how dumb Potter is. What on earth did you think I meant by it?'

Harry, Ron and Ginny shared another look.

'Nothing,' said Ron quietly. Draco smirked and was about to make another snide remark about how Ron never thinks, when Dumbledore interrupted him.

'You say she's been missing for –' he checked a thing hanging from his neck that could only be described as a watch. 'Twelve hours?'

'Yes.' Harry nodded. Dumbledore bit his lip, than looked at his watch.

'Right,' he said slowly. 'In the morning we'll start a search of the castle and grounds. Every student and teacher will be involved. If we've searched three days without finding her, we'll notify the Ministry. Until then Mr Malfoy,' here he rested his blue gaze on Draco again. 'You will not leave the grounds, nor be unaccompanied during any time of that period. You, I'm afraid, are our number one suspect if Miss Granger really has been kidnapped. I suggest you all get some sleep, however.' He held up a hand to stop the torrent of '_Morning?_' and '_Three days_?! She could be in another country in three days!' and the rest.

They all got up to leave, quite disgruntled.

'Not you, Mr Malfoy.' Draco turned around.

'What?'

'You cannot return to the Slytherin common room. You will stay here with me. I shall make you up a bed and you will spend the night here. Just in case.'

'Just in case? Just in case what?'

But Dumbledore didn't answer; he waved the Gryffindors out the office, and then waved his wand and a camp bed appeared.

'This is unbelievable!' muttered Draco, sitting on it, glaring at Dumbledore. 'So what, I'm under investigation?'

'You could say that,' murmured Dumbledore, seemingly distracted.

'But I didn't do anything wrong! I did not kidnap Granger!'

'We will see. Goodnight Mr Malfoy.'


	3. The Search Begins

**Disclaimer: **Gosh this is boring. I haven't even had any reviews 'cause I wrote all 3 chapters at the same time! Hah! OK, not mine, you know the drill. If I don't have to do this on every page, let me know. OK, screw it; this is last Disclaimer for this story unless I get in trouble. Not mine blah blah blah …

**Chapter 2: The Search Begins**

The morning dawned cloudy, just as it should, at least in Harry's mind. He sat up, rubbing his sore eyes. He hadn't slept much last night, the hour or two he _had _gotten had been on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. He looked over at Ginny, who was curled up in her armchair like a cat; then Ron, who was sprawled in his armchair, much less elegantly.

The sound of someone talking roused him completely and he turned around. Colin Creevey, Dennis Creevey and some other fifth-years crowded around the notice board.

'Hey!' said a girl, pointing to a piece of parchment. 'Today's Quidditch match has been cancelled. In favour of … what?' she squinted at the notice, as though the letters would talk to her. 'That's all. How can that be all? They don't say why!'

There were lots of murmurs, mostly people saying 'I have no idea' or 'Quidditch – cancelled? What's more important than Quidditch?'

Despite himself, Harry had to grin at the little fourth-year girl who'd said the last one; he could see she was going to grow up to be just like Oliver Wood; she'd probably be the Quidditch captain in a few years.

A groan let Harry know Ron was awake. He watched as he opened his eyes, yawned, and looked around, a faint look of surprise on his face.

'What the –' then he remembered. 'Oh no! Ginny! Wake up!'

'Whosere?' she said, lifting her head immediately. Harry had forgotten she was a light sleeper. 'Ron?' she said blearily, peering at him. 'What's goin' on?' Then she too remembered. 'Oh my God!' Her eyes opened properly and she stared at Harry. 'Harry, what's happening?'

'Today's Quidditch is cancelled in favour of Hermione's search.' He yawned.

'Oh!' she sank back down onto the chair. 'That's right. Come on.' She stood up and stretched. 'We should have breakfast; I'm sure Dumbledore will make a speech.'

The boys agreed with her, so they headed down to the Great Hall.

When they entered, over half the student body was already in there, as well as all the teachers. They sat down at the Gryffindor table, feeling very empty without Hermione. Harry looked across at the Slytherin table. They were all talking to Draco, trying to get him to talk, by the looks of it, but he was plainly ignoring them, furiously stabbing at his eggs and toast. He looked up and gave Harry an extremely dirty look. Harry looked away, towards Dumbledore.

The Headmaster stood up and the hall fell silent as he raised his hands.

'Students,' he began, 'as you may have noticed, Quidditch has been cancelled today.' He looked at all the Quidditch teams, who all looked very indignant. 'There is a good reason. A student has gone missing. Hermione Granger, from Gryffindor house, went missing yesterday, at around two o'clock. Did anyone see her after that? Please, if you have, see me after breakfast. But today, and tomorrow and Monday if necessary, we, the entire school, will be searching the castle and grounds, looking for her.'

The hall was no longer silent, but buzzing with rumours. The Slytherins began talking to each other, as if they didn't care. But Malfoy was certainly not talking; he was looking at his food still, ignoring everyone.

'Even _you _shall participate, Slytherins.' Dumbledore said suddenly, startling them all out of their chats. 'You will help us look. You are part of this school, so you will act as part of it.' He didn't mention that it could very well be Draco that had caused this search, and for that Draco was glad. But that feeling didn't last long as he remembered last night. He'd never had a more uncomfortable sleep in his life. It was a peasant's sleep. He glared at his eggs, imagining them to be Dumbledore's face. He obviously thought Draco guilty, even if he hadn't said it. They would all think he was guilty if they didn't find that rotten Granger.

He looked at the Gryffindor table and saw Ginny glaring at him. He sneered back at her, and then returned to his food. He couldn't believe the injustice of it all. His indignation was pounding in his chest, threatening to split out. But he couldn't have that. Oh no, they'd find Granger in some forgotten corner of the library or something, and then Potter and the two Weasley's would feel stupid, not to mention Dumbledore. Draco thought he might move to Durmstrang when this was all over. There they wouldn't accuse him of kidnapping anyone. In fact, they'd probably praise him if he did.

'Draco,' said Pansy suddenly, from beside him. Surprised, Draco looked at her. 'Aren't you going to finish that?'

He looked up at the high table and saw Dumbledore watching him. He spat into the food, never taking his eyes off Dumbledore.

'I'd never eat food from this school,' he replied, still watching Dumbledore, who'd suddenly grown hard and was almost glaring at Draco. 'I'd never _touch _anything from this school.' He looked back at Pansy, who was staring at him.

'Draco?' But he was already up and moving out of the hall.

Dumbledore tensed and muttered to Snape, who immediately stood up and followed him.

Out in the entrance hall, Snape caught up with Draco.

'Draco,' he said, and the boy stopped and turned around. 'Where are you going?'

Draco rolled his eyes.

'Dumbledore sent you after me, didn't he?' was his reply.

'Yes,' said Snape honestly. Draco sighed angrily. 'Draco, I don't believe you kidnapped Miss Granger, and neither does Professor Dumbledore; he just has to take certain precautions, that's all.'

'He _does _believe I kidnapped her, I know it; he practically said it last night! They all think that, I bet. Everyone who knows what happened earlier in the day will assume I did it! Well I didn't. I didn't do it.' He felt like crying, but he would never do that. At least where no one would see him.

Just then, people began filing out of the Great Hall. Prefects and Heads of Houses were directing their house to a certain area of the castle and grounds.

Warrington, a Slytherin prefect, approached Snape and Draco. 

'Sixth-years have got the library, then the eighth floor, then the edge of the forest, OK Draco?'

'Yeah, OK,' muttered Draco, and he began to make his way towards the library. But not before he ran into Potter and the two Weasley's. He groaned. 'What do _you _lot want?'

'Just wanted to say good luck,' said Ron flatly. Draco stared at him. 'Because,' and his voice turned cold, 'if she's not here, we all know who took her, don't we?'

They stalked off, laughing coldly. Draco made a face at their backs, which he knew was childish, but he couldn't help it.

After a thorough search of the library, and discovering there were no secret spots, Draco went to the eighth floor and began searching the corridors and toilets. He even went into a girl's bathroom, but Lavender Brown was in there and she hit him.

'I was looking for Granger!' he yelped, running back out.

'Look in your own bathroom!' she'd yelled after him.

By the time the floor had been searched, the day had ended. Draco slouched back into the Great Hall, hungrier then he'd ever been in his life, and furious and worried to boot.

'Hungry now?' said Pansy smoothly, as Draco shovelled food down.

'A boy's got to eat,' he replied, not looking at her. She took advantage of him talking.

'So I wonder what's _really _going on with the whole Granger thing?' she said furtively, looking sideways at him.

'How should I know?' said Draco calmly, so as not to raise suspicion.

'Well,' Pansy continued, 'Potter and the Wealseys _did _come and get you out of bed last night; Blaise Zabini told me himself.'

'Well, Blaise is a fruitcake,' was Draco's swift reply. 'If they did, I have no recollection of it.'

'Then why weren't you in the common room this morning?'

'What exactly are you saying Pansy?' Draco sat back in his chair and fixed her with his silver gaze.

'No-nothing –' she was faltering under his stare.

'Are you saying I have some alliance with the Gryffindorks?'

'No, no, of course not Draco!'

'Well, what then?'

'I'm not – I wasn't – well …'

'Spit it out Pansy.'

'Are you somehow involved with Granger's disappearance?' It obviously took her guts to say that, but Draco didn't admire her for that. In fact, he cursed her inwardly. Outwardly, though, he simply looked at her.

'Don't be ridiculous; I'm not a kidnapper, Pansy.' But no sooner had he finished that sentence when a hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up and his eyes met with Dumbledore and … his heart plummeted … Cornelius Fudge? He stared at them.

'Please come with us, Mr Malfoy,' said Dumbledore sternly. Draco stood up, his heart pounding hard against his rib cage. If he had any less dignity, he'd be shaking.

He followed the pair without a word, but Harry, Ron and Ginny met them at the door and joined the group. Everyone was watching them leave and Draco felt very self-conscious. He supposed that was what made him look so guilty.

As they left the hall, all the tables burst into whispers about the scene.

The entire walk to Dumbledore's office was in silence, with the new trio glaring at him. It was weird to be glared at by three people who weren't the people he was used to. Oh sure, Harry and Ron were the same, and Ginny did often glare at him, but he didn't see her as much as the other two and Hermione, so it was odd. As he contemplated this, his mind wandered to the reason this was happening. He knew Fudge was here because he'd heard about it and thought he was guilty, so that was that question answered. But he also wondered what they were going to do with him. They couldn't throw him in Azkaban or anywhere; they'd only searched for one day. Surely they would let it go for two days?

He barley noticed when the stopped in front of the gargoyle, he only knew that he was being ushered onto the moving staircase then into the office. He stopped just inside the door, staring at a figure that was also in there.

'Mum?'


	4. Innocent Until Proven Guilty

**Disclaimer: **OK, I admit it; I got cold feet. I'm blushing, even though you can't see me. Tee hee! Anyway, no charries, places or spells are mine etc etc …

**Chapter 3: Innocent Until Proven Guilty**

'Mum?'

'Hello Draco,' said Narcissa Malfoy, standing up from her chair.

'What … what are you doing here?' spluttered Draco.

'I was owled by Dumbledore,' she said stiffly. Draco was shocked. He had no idea she was here!

'Please, Narcissa, Cornelius, sit. You too, students.' Dumbledore strode behind his desk. For the first time, Draco noticed both Snape and McGonagall. _Wow, _he thought, _I _am _special_.

He sat down next to Narcissa, still stunned she was there, and then looked up at Dumbledore.

'We're expecting two more visitors,' he said, sitting down. 'We'll wait for them to begin.'

The next few minutes were incredibly boring. Draco was nervous about what was going to happen, and who the last two people were (maybe they were executioners or something), but it was dulled a little when he looked at his mother.

The chairs were placed in a circle, with Dumbledore's desk at the top. There were two chairs left, on the other side of the circle from Draco. They were further up, too - closer to Dumbledore's desk then him, and Draco had the distinct feeling that there might have been a reason for that. While he was pondering that, the office door swung open, and Madam Pomfrey entered, followed by two plain-looking people, a man and a woman, who looked like they'd been crying, but were still having a look around. He probably should've been able to guess right then and there who they were, but Draco's brain wasn't thinking clearly.

'Ah,' said Dumbledore, getting to his feet and crossing the office to them. 'Mr Granger, Mrs Granger, how nice to meet you. But dreadful about the circumstances. Please, do sit down,' he motioned them towards the last two chairs. They nodded and sat down. Draco's brain was frozen, but still trying to work.

So, these two were Granger's parents, eh? Muggles in Hogwarts. That must be a first. But, and now Draco began to get scared, why were they here? Was Hermione dead or something? What had happened? They'd only had one day of searching; they weren't going to convict him yet, surely?

He glanced at Mr and Mrs Granger, but they seemed to be avoiding his gaze. They were instead thanking Harry, Ron and Ginny, who had been comforting them.

'Well, Dumbledore,' said Fudge, and Draco thought he seemed too cheerful given the circumstances. 'Shall we begin?'

'Yes,' said Dumbledore, casting Draco a sorrowful look. 'Yes, I suppose we should.'

Draco glanced at his mother. She didn't seem any more relaxed then Dumbledore. This did nothing to soothe his nerves.

'Well,' said Fudge, who put on a saddened voice for the Grangers. 'We're all here for one reason; Hermione Granger has been missing for over twenty-four hours. Now, Misters Potter and Weasley, as well as Miss Weasley, believe that Mr Malfoy is behind the disappearance, which seemed to occur at two o'clock yesterday afternoon.'

A choke escaped Mrs Granger, and she shot Draco a look. It was blank, and he could tell she just wanted to look at him. To see his face. _I'm not a murderer, _he wanted to say, _I'm not even a kidnapper! _But he held his tongue, wisely, he was sure.

'Mr Malfoy, what do you have to say in your defence?' Fudge barked at him.

'Well, yes, actually, I have something to say, and I also have two questions.'

'Well, spit them out, boy!'

'Number one: are we in court?' Draco asked the room at large. 'Number two: why are we in court; we haven't even finished the search of the school. And my defensive statement is: I didn't do it. I didn't kidnap Hermione Granger; I did not murder her or do anything else to her. I am innocent.'

'We didn't accuse you of murdering her!' exclaimed Fudge, sounding delighted. 'Are you admitting to something, Mr Malfoy?'

'No, I'm just getting in first before you accuse me of rape and murder and everything else you can think of.' Draco replied, ignoring the whimper from Mrs Granger.

Fudge looked put out.

'Uh-huh,' he said, lost for words for a moment.

'What about my questions: are you going to answer them?'

'Yes, of course,' Fudge cleared his throat. 'We are not in court, Mr Malfoy; we are just trying to establish whether or not you had something to do with Miss Granger's disappearance. And number two: we are giving you a taste of a court-setting, because, if, after these three days, Miss Granger is not found, you will be formally accused and sent to court and tried for kidnapping and possibly more.'

'Well, I didn't do it.'

'We have eye-witnesses that say they saw you _pick Miss Granger up and try to strangle her_!'

'Now that's going a little far,' protested Draco, looking from the Grangers to Narcissa. 'She insulted me, so I picked her up by her robes. She wasn't in any danger of suffocating, I swear!'

'Liar,' said Harry acidly.

'Shut up, Potter,' snapped Draco. 'Anyway, then Potter and Weasley attacked me, so I threw Grang – Hermione out of the way, into some fellow Slytherins. Then she set my robes alight with one of her spells. And that's what happened!' he added, as everyone looked rather disbelieving.

'Hermione was trying to hit you because she couldn't breathe!' said Ron viciously. 'You were choking her!'

Everyone looked from Ron to Draco.

'I was not,' he said, 'and besides, what difference would that make anyway? Potter and Weasley are always attacking _me_; Granger too, she's always casting spells on me. Why doesn't anyone put _them_ to court?'

'Because we always have a legitimate reason, Malfoy,' said Harry angrily. 'You always provoke us.'

'Well, maybe Potty and the Weasel should grow up a bit, so they learn not to always take the bait?' said Draco in a baby-ish voice. Ron's ears went red and Harry seemed to glow with anger. Draco, despite himself, was quite impressed with Harry's ability to glow an orange-red colour. Of course, it might just be his imagination. On second thoughts, it probably was.

'Well, maybe Malfoy should grow up himself, so he can think of more original and grown-up nicknames?' snapped Harry.

Draco opened his mouth, but Dumbledore interrupted.

'Hush boys!' he said calmly, glancing at each of them. 'Please, no more fighting, at least not at the moment.'

'Yeah,' said Ginny, an idea already forming in her head. 'We all want one thing here, so let's try to get along, OK?'

'What do we both want?' said Ron, apparently disgusted at the thought of wanting the same thing as Draco. Draco happened to feel the same way. But Ginny grinned; her plan was already working.

'Hermione,' she said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. 'We all want Hermione back.'

'I don't want that Mudblood back!' Draco snapped without thinking. 'I'm glad she's gone; one less on the Dream Team –' then he stopped. Oh no! Draco swallowed nervously as everyone stared at him, a triumphant look on Ginny's face. _What have I done? _He thought desperately, looking at Narcissa. She didn't look surprised, merely aggrieved. _I may as well have confessed! _Draco bit his lip and looked at Dumbledore, who was also staring at him.

'Well,' Fudge cleared his throat. 'Thank you for that piece of information, Mr Malfoy.' His eyes glinted maliciously. 'We'll know where to find you in three days.' He stood up and everyone else followed suit. 'Although,' he continued, 'I don't see why we should wait – he's clearly guilty; we all heard what he just said. I should just take the boy with me now. What do you say, Dumbledore?'

'Mr Fudge,' said Narcissa, speaking for the first time since she'd greeted her son. 'I do not think you have a right to do that. The agreement was: search the castle for three days. If the girl – Miss Granger – is not found, then you may _question _my son. I refuse to allow you to go back on your word, Minister.'

Draco looked at his mother gratefully; he was sure they'd take him and throw him straight in Azkaban. Fudge looked around uncomfortably.

'Yes, well … yes, I suppose we could … Mr and Mrs Granger,' he said suddenly, turning to them. 'What do you think?' He turned back to the rest of them. 'I think the final decision should be based on what _they _want; she is, after all, their daughter.' Draco's chest tightened painfully; Harry, Ron and Ginny were watching him gleefully. He looked at Hermione's parents; Mrs Granger's eyes were red and puffy, her sniffling still heard; Mr Granger's face was much harder; he was gazing at Draco like someone might look at a spider; pure dislike was etched on his face. Draco began to feel his freedom slip away; he knew what they'd say. As he was already standing, he tensed, ready to run if they did indeed condemn him to Azkaban.

But they surprised him. They surprised him so much that he just wanted to run up to them and hug them. Which he would never do.

'I want our daughter back,' sniffled Mrs Granger; she shared a glance wit her husband and then said, 'but he's innocent until proven guilty.'

Draco sagged back down onto his chair.

'Wha – what?' said Fudge, obviously flabbergasted.

'We don't want to condemn a boy unless he did indeed do something with Hermione. And we don't know that for sure, so … Hermione described Dementors to us when she came home after her third year.' She shuddered. 'I would never condemn a man – let alone a boy – to that unless he deserved it.'

Draco wanted to catch her eye, to thank her, but she wouldn't look at him. Mr Granger was though.

'Although,' he said, standing up and glaring at Draco, 'if she has indeed been kidnapped or hurt in any way, and it has something to do with _you_ … well, then we won't hesitate. Do you understand that, Malfoy?'

'Yes,' said Draco, 'but it wasn't me, sir. I swear, it wasn't me.'

Mr Granger just shot him a look that plainly told Draco he didn't believe him, and then helped his wife out of her chair. As they left, Harry stopped by Draco on the way to the door.

'It better not be you, Malfoy. For your sake. Because the Ministry won't have much to deal with by the time me and Ron finish with you, got it?' He didn't wait for an answer, he just continued walking. Draco watched him go, his hand itching to get around his wand, but knew it would be very unwise.

Once everyone was gone besides Draco, Narcissa, Fudge, Dumbledore and Snape, Fudge turned to Dumbledore while watching Draco out the corner of his eye.

'Watch him, Dumbledore,' he said quietly, but not quietly enough. 'Don't let him go near that Weasley girl, OK? I don't trust him as far as I could move his hair, and that's not far. We don't need another Gryffindor girl missing.'

Draco glared at him as he left. Move his hair indeed. Did Fudge think his hair was naturally slicked down? What a moron. Maybe he'd just have to _not _slick his hair down the next time he saw Fudge, although he doubted his opinion of him would change. No, Fudge was a natural moron, of that Draco was sure. They'd probably be better with Arthur Weasley as Minister of Magic. Draco snorted at the thought. Yeah, right.

'Dumbledore, I don't like the action being taken against my son; he has done nothing wrong, and apart from a little brawl he had with the missing girl, no one has any proof that he has.' Narcissa was glaring elegantly at Dumbledore; there was nothing she did inelegantly.

'I completely agree, Mrs Malfoy,' replied Dumbledore gently. 'I didn't know until this morning Cornelius was even going to be here – he was going to watch the Quidditch match; he wanted to see Harry play – and I certainly didn't know he'd want to take matters into his own hands. I was only going to notify him after the three-day-search. I feel terrible about this mishandling of the situation.'

'Well, you should Dumbledore; Fudge is trying to put an innocent boy in Azkaban!'

So it was true, thought Draco grimly; they _were _going to send him to Azkaban. He felt ill at the thought; he hated Dementors more than anything in the world. Except perhaps Potter. Yes, he was an exception. But his father was in Azkaban … hang on … since when did Azkaban hold juvenile kidnappers? He asked Dumbledore that question.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful.

'I think Cornelius is making an exception because of your father … highly irresponsible, but there you are.'

Both Narcissa and Draco bristled at that.

'Are you insinuating something, Mr Dumbledore?' said Narcissa, her voice one full of suppressed anger.

'No, absolutely not – you can hardly say that Lucius is a decent man, though.'

'Decent man?!' Narcissa shrieked at Dumbledore, who looked taken aback. 'There is no man more decent than Lucius! You know nothing about our family, _Dumbledore, _so don't try to insinuate that you do!' She turned on her heel. 'Come on, Draco, we're leaving.'

Draco began to follow his mother, feeling nearly as angry at Dumbledore as Narcissa, but Dumbledore called them back.

'I'm sorry, Narcissa, but Draco can't go anywhere.'

'What? He's my son, Dumbledore; I'll take him wherever I like!'

'No, you can't; he has to stay here; he'll be under investigation in a few days and one of the conditions if he's not taken now –'

'You sound very sure that this Granger girl is not going to be found!'

'I didn't mean that, but it's not very likely she'll turn up, is it?'

'Fine!' Narcissa swooped down on Draco and kissed him on the cheek. 'I'll see you soon, Draco. Don't worry; everything will be fine; you are _not_ going to Azkaban.'

'Goodbye Mother,' said Draco, returning the kiss.

Narcissa glared at Dumbledore once more, and then walked out the office. Dumbledore sighed.

'Severus, please escort her out.' He sat back down behind his desk and put his head in his hands. Snape nodded and followed Narcissa out. As the door shut, Draco turned back to Dumbledore, hating him more than anyone he'd ever hated before, including Potter.

'Before you ask, Mr Malfoy, you are sleeping in here again, so I suggest you go down to dinner.'

'I'm not hungry,' said Draco nastily.

'Fine. Suit yourself. I'll be in my quarters.' With that, Dumbledore went up the stairs to a small room, waving his wand as he went. Draco's unmade camp bed stood in the middle of the floor, the chairs gone.

'Whatever,' muttered Draco, crawling into bed. That day had been the worst day of his life, but the worst part was not knowing if it was going to get any better.


	5. Runaway Serpent

**Disclaimer: **I have told you before, and I will tell you again: none of this (except the plot) is mine. So sorry.

**A/N: **Thanks for my first review, **mz**** malfoy**! My first review! Yay! Now, people, I like plurals, so if you'd like to make my revie**w **reviews, I will love you forever! Um … this chapters longer than the others, I think, but they will get progressively longer as the story continues and Draco finds himself in a Muggle city! MWAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Well, please REVIEW people!

**Chapter 4: Runaway Serpent**

The next day passed in a blur for Draco, and before he knew it, it was Day Three of the Search and he was heading down to breakfast. He sank dully onto the bench between Goyle and Pansy.

'Morning Draco,' said Goyle, not even pausing in his eager quest to devour as much food as possible.

Draco didn't answer, instead choosing to try and eat some toast of his own. Try being the operative word; he just couldn't get enthusiastic about eating something that tasted like wet carpet. Not that he knew what wet carpet tasted like. He put the toast down, pushed his plate away, folded his arms on the table and dropped his head onto them. If they didn't find Hermione today, they'd chuck him into Azkaban, then they might figure out he didn't have anything to do with her disappearance. _Oh well, _he consoled himself, _at least I might get to see Father again_.

Perhaps if Draco was of lesser strength of mind, or if he had been brought up differently, then he might have broken down in tears under the injustice and pressure of it all: sixteen and a prime suspect for a kidnapping. Draco groaned. He was sure that if the hadn't found Hermione in two days of thorough searching, then she wouldn't be.

He lifted his head when he felt Pansy gently poking his arm.

'Look at Potter and the Weasley's,' she said scornfully, pointing to the doors of the Great Hall, 'I wonder what they want?'

Draco knew exactly what they wanted; they were watching him and when he looked up, they caught his eye, nodded towards the main staircase, and then stepped out of sight.

'Those three Gryffindorks really are acting oddly,' Pansy mused, shaking her head.

'Yeah,' said Draco, not really hearing her, ''scuse me, Pansy.' He stood up and made his way out of the hall.

No sooner had he stepped into the doorway, was he being grabbed and pulled to one side, so he was invisible to everyone in the Great Hall. This did nothing for his safety radar.

'Careful there, Potter,' Draco sneered, detaching his arm from Harry's hand.

But then Ron grabbed the front of his robes and pushed him up against the wall. Draco smirked, just to annoy them; he'd never felt less like smirking.

'My bread's not buttered that way, sorry Weasley.' Ron's ears glowed red and he released Draco immediately. Draco straightened his robes and glared back at Harry, Ron and Ginny. 'What now?' he said, almost conversationally, leaning casually against the wall.

'Today's Day Three,' said Ginny coldly.

'So,' Draco snapped, but his stomach had just clenched painfully. Why did the little Weasley have to remind him? Did she really think he'd forgotten? His whole future rested on today, how could he forget that?

'We know you have her,' Ginny continued, 'you can give her up now and we'll say we found her during the Search.'

'Right,' Draco looked at their hopeful faces, 'well, sorry to disappoint you lot, but I haven't _got her!_' He turned on his heel, walked past the Great Hall's doors, through the main doors and out into the chilly morning air.

He kept walking until he was well clear of the main doors, and then dropped onto a stone bench under a balcony. Draco sighed and put his head in his hands. Why did he have to threaten the stupid Mudblood? Why did he have to teach her a lesson? But the real question that was plaguing his mind was: if Hermione really _had _been kidnapped – and that was looking extremely likely – and he wasn't the culprit, then who was? Who had taken her and where was she?

Something was nagging at Draco, dancing on the edge of his memory, teasing him, but he just could grab it. He hit his hand against his head, hoping to remember, but it only succeeded in giving him a slight headache.

A minute later, people began poring out of the castle to search the grounds; Draco could see the main doors from where he was sitting. He watched as the people split themselves into groups and headed in different directions. Draco couldn't even begin to imagine how Potter and Weasley felt; he'd had a pretty good childhood, even if his father was a bit strict, and hadn't had to suffer any inner torment. Except, of course, those which his father was always springing on him; Lucius felt that Draco be prepared for anything anyone could ever throw at him, but they'd never done anything on being a suspect for a crime. Draco felt for his two enemies only what he would allow himself to feel, but he _did _feel for them, which is something he would never admit to anyone, especially them.

Feeling significantly worse than before, Draco stood up and joined the closest search party, a group of third-year Hufflepuffs. He supposed they'd heard about his "involvement" with Hermione's disappearance, because they were very nervous around him: when he glanced at one of the girls, she burst into tears. Her friend comforted her, while the boys glared at Draco accusingly.

'Don't you even _think _about kidnapping Lucy!' said one viciously. Draco stared at him, taken aback.

'What?' he said.

'We all know what you're like!' piped Lucy's friend. 'You just stay away from her!'

'I wasn't –'

'We all saw you looking at her!' snapped another boy. His hands were balled into fists. For some reason, Draco found this highly amusing.

'What are you going to do, beat me up?' he laughed. But he'd underestimated the boy.

The kid leapt on Draco, swiping him across his face. Draco fell backwards in shock, his face stinging.

'Jarred!' yelled Lucy, still crying. 'Don't!'

But Jarred wasn't listening; he fell back for a moment, then lunged again, this time punching Draco in the stomach. Now, it was usually against Draco's nature to beat someone a lot younger than him (and three years difference definitely came under that heading), but it was also against his nature to take a beating without defending himself. So he grabbed little, skinny Jarred's shoulders and pushed him away. Not roughly, but his strength wasn't what Jarred was used to. He fell to the ground, gasping as he was winded. But he staggered to his feet again, glaring at Draco, who raised his eyebrows.

'You know,' he said, 'you should have been in Slytherin; lots of determination, and nowhere to exercise your anger.' Apparently, he'd said the wrong thing.

'I'm – not – a – Slytherin!' yelled Jarred, dashing forward again. Draco stepped to one side and grabbed his shoulders again. He spun him around quickly, holding his arms behind his back. He tightened his grip, so there was no way Jarred was going anywhere.

'I never said you were, you little brat. No,' he sneered, 'you're a _Hufflepuff_. I can only imagine how proud of that you must be. Hold still.' He looked at the remaining Hufflepuffs over Jarred's head. 'Now, what gave you lot the idea I'd want to kidnap Lucy?'

'Oh my God!' squealed a girl, and she grabbed Lucy's arm. 'He knows your name; he's been studying you, Lucy! He really _is _going to kidnap you!' Lucy promptly started crying again. Draco rolled his eyes, feeling exasperated, but also scared. What if these kids went to Dumbledore and told him their little story? He'd be thrown in Azkaban for sure.

'I've been doing _what _now?' Draco said, still reeling over the fact they thought he'd been "studying" the girl. 'No, never mind. Ow –' Jarred had kicked backwards, his foot colliding with the side of Draco's shin. 'Stop it. Anyway, I know her name because that kid over there –' he nodded to the first boy, '– just said it!' The Hufflepuffs looked very sceptical. 'Look, I don't know who you've been talking to, but I'm not a kidnaper, OK? I never kidnapped Hermione Granger, and I wouldn't even if I felt like it. I don't like her; why would I kidnap her – I'd then be spending more time with her, wouldn't I?'

Jarred had stopped wriggling; the Hufflepuffs were looking at each other, as though they got what he was saying. With renewed hope in his chest, Draco loosened his grip on Jarred; big mistake. As soon as his arms were free, Jarred elbowed Draco in the groin, sending him to the ground in a moaning heap.

'Come on, let's get out of here,' Draco heard someone say, and after the sound of running footsteps he was alone again.

Draco didn't know how long he lay on the grass for. He stayed in his little ball, gulping breaths down as the pain in his groin began to subside. He didn't even realise he was crying. It wasn't the humiliation of being beaten up by a thirteen year-old that made the tears flow; it was the past three days in general. Everything had gone wrong for him the minute he woke up to the present moment. He just couldn't understand how things had gone so wrong. Then he remembered. Granger. If he ever got his hands on her, he'd kill her.

It was the absurdity of this thought that made him open his eyes and roll onto his back, feet on the ground, so his knees pointed towards the heavens. He was looking at a grey sky, which did nothing for his mood. As the thumping pain in his groin began to subside, Draco was thinking how he could possibly get out of this torture that had become his life: wherever he went, people had heard about the accusation (with the exception of Pansy, because she was too dumb to figure out what people were gossiping about), and treated him with filthy looks, spiteful words and he'd even caught sight of Terry Boot being physically restrained from throwing himself on Draco. But he'd only been attacked once, by that snotty little Hufflepuff.

The humiliation made his insides and face burn, but the memory made something else pound with remembered agony. He'd never known how much it hurt; Draco had led a very protective life, as Lucius had always told him to surround himself people bigger than he, so they could protect him. And it had never failed, until now.

_Why is Dumbledore just sitting around, making us search the grounds? _Draco thought furiously. _Someone should be looking for her out _there. _He just wants to get me for something._

But one part of his thought struck him rather hard. Someone _should _be out there looking for her. Of course, the choice of person was logical; no one else would defend him, so Draco would have to do it himself. He'd go find Granger and clear his name.

Draco leapt to his feet, doubling over immediately, momentarily forgetting his earlier pain. Struggling to stand up again, Draco walked as fast as he could back towards the castle, making sure no one saw him. When he got to the entrance hall, he glanced around before running to the dungeon entrance, only stopping once he was in the dark break between two torches. He continued down through the dungeons of Hogwarts, his mind on preparations. He'd grab his broomstick, some clothes, nick down to the kitchens for some food and pumpkin juice, and then figure out where to go to search.

Draco looked up and found he'd reached the Wall, which hid the entry to the Slytherin common room. Briefly wondering how Potter and Weasley knew where it was, he spoke the password (_'Iggly-boffin'_) and entered, looking around. He was, thankfully, the only person here, which he'd suspected as everyone was searching fruitlessly for Hermione. He dashed down to his dormitory, grabbed his backpack, chucked in a jumper, pulled his winter cloak on, seized his broomstick, and was back up in the common room before two minutes had passed. He double-checked to make sure no one was in the corridor before he slipped out and quickly made his way up to the entrance hall, adrenaline heaving through his body, heart thumping loudly in his chest.

When he got to the entrance hall, he forgot to check if the coast was clear, and had to dive into a broom cupboard to avoid a bunch of Gryffindor seventh-years.

'Bloody Gryffindors,' he muttered angrily, when, ten minutes later, he was hurrying down the corridor toward the kitchens. 'They're everywhere!'

He reached the picture of a bowl of fruit. He hesitated only a second before tickling the pear, which turned into a green doorhandle. He pushed it open and stepped inside, having seen it all before, but still wary; house elves weren't his favourite creatures and they didn't particularly like him either. A house elf stopped and looked at him with her big eyes.

'Can Topsy help sir?' squeaked the elf.

'Er, yeah,' said Draco, drawing himself up confidently. 'Yes, can I have three loaves of bread, six flagons of pumpkin juice –' he read off a list, which was immediately granted by the elves.

'Sir must be very hungry,' said another elf. Draco nodded, but didn't reply. He had enough to think about without worrying about nosy house elves. He also got some sweets, which wasn't initially on his mental list, but he couldn't resist.

He was turning to leave when a familiar voice said, 'Dobby needs another tea towel, Topsy.'

Draco wheeled around and came face to face with Dobby, his ex-elf.

'Dobby?' said Draco incredulously, not believing his eyes. Dobby himself spun around, saw Draco, let out a very high-pitched squeak and fell to the ground in a kind of bow.

'Good afternoon, Master Draco,' said Dobby, his voice shaking.

'I'm not your master anymore, Dobby,' said Draco coolly, 'so stop that ridiculous bowing.'

Dobby straightened up, his big eyes very bright.

'Yes, Dobby no longer belongs to the Malfoy's,' said Dobby. He was regarding Draco with cold eyes, but his gaze seemed to burn.

'Go on, Dobby,' said Draco impatiently, 'Get it over with; I know there's something you want to say to me.'

'Master Draco – Malfoy – has stolen Harry Potter's Hermy.'

Draco stared at him.

'I've stolen _what_, now?'

'Harry Potter's Hermy!'

'Yes, I heard you the first time, Dobby, but what is –'

'Harry Potter's friend Hermy!' squealed Dobby furiously. 'Hermy, the one who likes Dobby's freedom!'

Draco stared for a moment, then finally it clicked. Harry's friend _Hermione_. But what was with this _Hermy _business? He decided it best not to ask.

'I did not take anything of Harry Potter's, especially not Granger!' said Draco hotly, at the same time wondering how the elf could hear the rumours, being stuck down here. It did seem odd to meet Dobby _here_, of all places, but decided not to ask about that, either. 'I did not come down here to be accused of something I didn't do!' He turned around again and was walking back towards the door, when he felt something collide into him from behind. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Dobby glaring at him.

'What –'

But Dobby didn't answer, merely flinging himself on Draco again, drawing back his little fist – but Draco was not prepared to be beaten up again by something much smaller than him, especially an elf! He grabbed Dobby and spun him around, pushing him towards the other elves, who were all staring at him. The elf called Topsy grabbed Dobby to prevent him from launching another attack. The elf just glared furiously at Draco, who rolled his eyes and left the kitchen, shaking his head.

Twenty minutes later, Draco found himself standing on the Astronomy Tower, broomstick clutched in one hand, looking at the sky. He took a deep breath: it wasn't going to be easy, just throwing himself off the roof, but he had to do. He knew his Nimbus 2001 would not fail him, and he _had _to find Hermione; it was his life on the line … well, in a way it was.

Draco looked down at the grounds. He had to wait until no one was watching: he didn't want anyone to know he was gone for a few hours at least; he needed enough time to get away. Far below him, he could just make out Harry and Ron, on the border line of the Forbidden Forest. Smirking at the thought that _he'd _be the one to rescue Granger, he climbed onto the parapet that was right in front of him, put one leg over his broomstick, and kicked off, flying about ten feet into the air before levelling out and looking down. He'd only flown this high once before, and that was at his parent's estate. He could see people, but no longer knew who they were. He instead focused on the horizon … he checked his broom-compass … he lent forward slightly on his broom and shot forward, leaving Hogwarts' accusing students behind.


	6. The Missing Suspect

**Disclaimer: **Are they really necessary?! Well, I suppose they are. Anyway not mine people, you wouldn't be reading this if they were. And anyway, you're not even reading the disclaimer, so I don't know why I'm writing it! Ha!

**A/N: **Put up your hand if you are so excited about POA coming out that you [nearly] wet your pants (or skirts, as the case may be) whenever you hear/see/read/possibly glimpse anything to do with it! I am raising my hand. I know you can't see me, but if you could, you would see my hand in the air. Yep. I am SOOOOO excited! I spend all my time surfing the net, getting trailers and stuff, so I've been a little slack, even though this chapter isn't very long; I think I rushed it a bit, but this chapter wasn't very important: it basically just told you all that they know. But this is only the second time I've updated, because I put the prologue and first 3 (?) chappies up first. Anyway.

Thank you to all my reviewers!! I am hugging you all, even though you can't tell. Okies, now I have enough to personally reply:

**Monique: **Well thank you! If (or should I say _when_) I write my own book, I will let you know, 'cause then at least one person will read it!

**TheDragonSlayer****: **Firstly, your name better not mean Draco, because I don't want anyone slaying him, if you don't mind! Secondly, thank you very much. You can't have read many good stories recently then!

**Male-chan: **Yes they will, see this chapter! Ha ha, not one of you will guess until I have finished this story! Well, at least done loads more!

**Silver Mist4: **Yes, indeed, I will try. But don't get your hopes up about Lucius, that's all I'm saying. I'm blushing. You're very (too) nice to me! Oh, I'm giving you extra hugs for writing lots and being very nice!

**Dracorum1: **Nah, I'm really quite sadistic, I'm afraid. I love Draco, but can never resist hurting him. I probably need therapy, but there you go!

**Scholcomp25: **Oooh, instalment! I like your words! Hee!

**Regina-terrae: **Yes, I was going to do that, but I don't know how without giving her position away. If you can think of how to do it, let me know, OK?

**oOoNOLabelsoOo****: **What on earth? How do you pronounce your name?! I will write more soon, don't worry!

And **Veta****: **Ha ha, it's funny when you all want to know, because I'm the only one who does!! :D Sorry, but it is funny. For me, anyway. But if you keep reading (and reviewing), you'll find out.

Now, I want to know what you all think about the next chapters and stuff, OK? I know you all like my story (and I love you all for it!), but I'd like to know what you think for individual chapters, if you'd be so kind. Wow. Ha. Long Author's Note. Hmmm. Sorry about that. ## That's me blushing. :P

**Chapter 5: The Missing Suspect**

It was dinner that night when the Gryffindors noticed he was missing. After a day searching, they were tired and grumpy. But they were also furious; it had been obvious from Day One that Hermione wasn't at Hogwarts anymore, yet Dumbledore insisted they keep searching. Now they had searched every crevice of the school, and finally – _finally _– Dumbledore would let Fudge arrest Malfoy.

'I don't see why Fudge didn't arrest him straight away,' said Ron angrily, splashing too much pumpkin juice into his goblet; it splashed over the white tablecloth, staining it orange.

'I don't know why, either,' said Ginny, who hadn't eaten a bite of her dinner. 'I suppose he just wanted to be sure, but …'

'Well, you don't have to worry about it anymore,' said Harry, 'they'll arrest him now and he'll _have _to give up Hermione.'

'Why do you think he did it in the first place?' said Neville thoughtfully.

Harry thought. Malfoy obviously hated Hermione; the fire thing must have been the last straw. He told the others his thoughts, but Neville looked unconvinced.

'I dunno,' he said slowly, 'it just seems a dumb reason for getting yourself in heaps of trouble.'

'Well there you go then!' said Ron, with the air of someone ending an argument. 'Malfoy's dumb, so of course he'd do something equally stupid.'

'Actually,' said Ginny suddenly, not looking at Ron or Harry. 'Malfoy's _not _dumb. If he was, he wouldn't have been able to kidnap Hermione in the first place; she's too smart.' There was a general murmur of reluctant agreement to that statement. But Ginny wasn't finished. 'In case you haven't noticed, Malfoy's come nearly top in most of your OWLs,' she continued, 'He got lots; I don't remember how many exactly, but I think he was third only to Hermione and Ernie Macmillan.'

The boys stared at her.

'How did you know that?' said Ron suspiciously, frowning at her.

Ginny shrugged.

'Malfoy never stops bragging; even _you _should know that. I heard him earlier in the year talking about it.'

Nobody said anything for a minute, while they all digested this news. Harry didn't like to think of Malfoy coming before him in anything. _Oh well, _said a voice in his head, _at least it wasn't Quidditch_. Harry grinned. Yes, that was true. Malfoy may have gotten more OWLs than him, but Harry would always beat him at Quidditch, that was certain. With this happy thought in his head, Harry turned towards the Slytherin table, hoping to flash Malfoy a dirty look – that was when he noticed it.

'Where's Malfoy?' said Harry sharply, peering up and down the table. Ron's head snapped up so fast he cricked it. Grimacing and rubbing it, he too looked for their blond nemesis. Ginny and Neville scanned the table quickly, too.

'He's not there,' said Neville unnecessarily.

'Not there?' said Ginny, sounding quite alarmed. 'Why not? The whole school's meant to be here!'

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, who had a look of sombreness on his face. His gaze travelled to Snape, who had his head down, but an unmistakable sneer on. Harry glared at him for a moment, but his panic brought his eyes back to the Slytherin table. Pansy Parkinson was leant forward conspiringly to a group of sixth-year Slytherins including Crabbe and Goyle, who were all whispering, glancing occasionally at the High Table or the Gryffindors.

'He's done something,' breathed Harry, turning to a horrified Ron, Ginny and Neville. 'I'm sure of it; look at them all.' He waved his hand toward the Slytherins.

Ginny immediately pulled a long, flesh-coloured string out of her pocket. They all stared at her.

'What are –' began Neville, but Ginny cut him off.

'Extendable Ears,' she said hurriedly, breaking off three more strings and handing them to the boys. 'Hurry or we won't hear them.'

Neville followed the other's lead in sticking his string in his ear, looking quite perplexed.

'Go,' whispered Ginny urgently, and the foursome had the extremely hard job of looking like hearing aids weren't slithering across the floor so they could eavesdrop on Slytherins. They pretended they were immersed in conversation, but very poorly as they looked continuously at the opposing table. Finally, Pansy's voice cut through all the babble as though she were right there with them, God forbid.

'Yes, his bag too. All gone,' she was saying, her concern unmistakable.

'But where? And _why_?' said Blaise Zabini, as he glanced toward Harry and the others.

'You idiot Zabini,' snapped Ashlea Moon, glaring at him. 'They're all saying he took that Granger girl. That must be why he ran.'

'But it's not like him!' insisted Goyle angrily.

'Are you kidding?' said Ashlea, who seemed to dislike Malfoy. 'Draco's always got you and Crabbe around; he doesn't like to fight his own battles, big _or _small. He's a coward; better off in Hufflepuff if you ask me.'

'No one did,' snapped Pansy, glaring daggers at Ashlea, who simply shrugged. 'Draco wouldn't just up and leave, I know he wouldn't!'

'His bag's gone?' said Ashlea.

'Yes.'

'His cloak?'

'Yes,'

'_And _his broomstick?'

Well, yes –'

'Well then, Pansy darling,' sneered Ashlea, with the air of someone talking to a particularly slow three year old, 'it's seems he's done a runner.'

Harry exchanged horrified looks with Ron, Ginny and Neville.

'Gone?' whispered Ginny, who looked mortified. 'He's _gone_?'

Neville was shaking. Harry and Ron simply stared at one another.

'Of course,' said Ron slowly, 'he wouldn't have kept her in the castle, would he? Do you remember what he said in Dumbledore's office the other night? "You could have stopped her being taken out of the castle if you'd acted sooner"? That's what he said! We should've guessed then!' He fell onto the table with a groan.

'It's not your fault Ron,' said Ginny comfortingly, patting him on the back.

'We have to tell Dumbledore,' said Harry, getting to his feet and pulling out the Extendable Ear as he did so. The others followed suit, and they walked hastily up to where Dumbledore was sitting. He caught sight of them and beamed, though it was slightly false.

'Hello Harry,' he got out, before they interrupted him.

'Malfoy's gone!' Harry said, his words stumbling over each other in order to escape his mouth.

Dumbledore looked quite alarmed.

'What?'

'We overheard Pansy Parkinson and they other Slytherins just now,' said Ron frantically, pointing in their general direction. 'They said his bag and cloak were gone, as well as his broomstick! They said he's gone, sir!'

'Gone?' Dumbledore got to his feet immediately, stepped out from behind the High Table, and led the way down to the Slytherin table, while everyone stared at him. Pansy and the others stopped talking and sat back down properly, looking at him with faked innocence. 'Miss Parkinson, is it true Mr Malfoy's stuff is gone?'

'Not – not all of it, sir,' she stammered, flashing a look at Goyle and Crabbe.

'But his bag, broomstick and cloak?'

'Y – Yes, but …'

But Dumbledore seemed to have heard enough. He turned around to find Professors Snape and McGonagall standing behind him.

'Minerva, will you go down to the kitchens and see if any food was taken; Severus, to the Slytherin dormitory, if you please, check his money stocks.' Then he turned to Harry, Ron and Ginny.

'What does this mean?' said Ginny, her voice cracking. Dumbledore sighed and looked away.

'I'm not sure,' he admitted finally, 'If Mr Malfoy truly _has _gone, then it could mean one of two things: he is guilty and running; or, he is innocent and running. Unfortunately,' he sighed again, 'there is no way we can tell.' He ushered them out of the Hall. 'Please,' he said, 'wait in my office. The password is _"Cherry-cream"_.' He left them, walking, almost running, down the corridor leading to the dungeons.

Harry looked at the others and led the way towards Dumbledore's office. Ginny was making odd noises, a cross between whimpering and hissing, while Ron was ashen-faced and silent. Harry was feeling cold, both inside and out. He never thought he'd feel awful at the prospect of Malfoy leaving Hogwarts, but Harry had been – and still was – sure that he'd kidnapped Hermione. And while she was still at large, he didn't like the idea of Malfoy being somewhere where Harry couldn't see him. For all he knew, he'd gone to finish Hermione off; he might have gotten spooked and decided to go down for murder as well as kidnap. Suddenly, Ron tapped his shoulder. Harry turned around, and found he had walked ten paces past the gargoyle. Feeling clumsy, he walked back to Ginny, who was standing in front of it.

'_Cherry-cream_,' he said dully, and the gargoyle jumped aside, revealing the moving staircase. Harry liked this staircase; he didn't have to bother moving, it would just take him up …

He followed Ron and Ginny onto the stairs, and it carried the upwards. Harry shut his eyes until they reached the top, where he got off, and they went into Dumbledore's office. Ginny fell into one of the three chairs sitting in front of Dumbledore's desk and stayed there, her head down, while Harry and Ron followed suit. After a minute Ron said, 'Where would he have gone? Especially with everything happening here. And where's Hermione?' Nobody answered him, and a minute after that, the door opened and Dumbledore strode in, his face grave and worn. He sat down before he spoke, and at first busied himself with his hands. After a moment of watching him twiddling his thumbs, Harry spoke up.

'Well?' he said accusingly, glaring at this calm old man.

Dumbledore looked up and sighed. Harry felt his chest constrict painfully. But Ginny spoke before Dumbledore got a chance.

'Why?' she said, 'Why did he go? I don't whether he's gone, but what about Hermione? What do we do now?'

'We don't do anything,' said Dumbledore heavily. 'We let the Aurors handle it. Mr Malfoy's gone, and so is Miss Granger. There is nothing we can do now except wait for the Aurors to find them.'


	7. Memory's Dream

**Disclaimer: **Did you know, I read an article about what J.K. Rowling thinks of fan fiction. She loves it, just for your interest. But she also asked authors (that includes me! excited shiver) to stop crediting her, because she just provided the characters/settings etc for these stories, we come up with the plots, and we write them. How cool is that?? So I don't have to do anymore disclaimers! Yay! We all know you guys don't read them, anyway.

**A/N: **Hey everyone! Sorry this took so long to post, I had the flu (and we all know how bad that is), then Prisoner of Azkaban got closer, so I was spending all my time looking at pictures and reading interviews (bad me!). Then it _came _out (last Thursday, actually) and I was so excited, I couldn't think of writing! I've seen it twice already, and plan to see it LOTS more before it leaves the cinema. I love that movie. Hugs Tom What a hottie! And to my reviewers:

**Cliche'Brat****: **First off: thank you! Second: Harry does not think well under pressure, as you'd know if you've read Order of the Phoenix, with the mirror/Sirius thing. Although, granted, he hadn't even opened it, but STILL! Anyway, in Chapter 4, Draco was in a daze/angst, remember? Now take that daze/angst and multiply it by seven thousand and _then_ add the fact that Harry has a hero complex and seems to care more about saving other people than himself. So he really wanted to find Hermione. As do all you reviewers ()! So he wasn't thinking too clearly. Also, that would take the 3-Day search away and I wanted it in there! I didn't use the Cloak, either, did I? When they went to get Draco? No Invisibility Cloak.

**Silver Mist 4: **You reviewed again! Huggles for you! Yes, well, Dumbledore's not used to having 2 students suddenly disappear, is he? I do know what you mean, though. Winces at line Yes, bad wasn't it? I hope there are no lines like that in here!

**s91: **Bows Thank you!

3 reviews (there might have been a 4th, but it could have got deleted … I think there was: if that was you, thank you!)!! Come on, my friends! I love reading reviews as much as I love writing this story! What if I get no reviews? Will the story keep getting written? Not a threat (), just an observation! While we're on this topic (what topic? you're asking), are there any drawers out there that want to draw pictures to do with my story? (e.g. a scene?) That would be _so _cool! Just a (wishful) idea! Anyway, enjoy!

UPDATE If this isn't the chapter title you remembered, I'm sorry! If you're reading this for the first time, no worries. However, if you know the other title, I apologise. I accidentally put in _next _chapter's title. Sorry!

**Chapter 6: Memory's Dream**

Draco was cold, so very, very cold. He shifted his position on the broom a little, but nearly fell off, so he decided not to try that again. He gazed down at the lights below him; he'd just left the mountains, but already he was unimpressed with the shining globes below him, mainly due to the fact that he had to keep swerving off course to avoid them. He was flying much faster than usual; he was surprised his Nimbus could go so quickly. He was not really looking where he was going, instead glancing up every so often to check he was going in the right direction.

It was on one of his glance-ups that he noticed a large cloud hovering some twelve feet away; Draco was heading toward it with great speed. He swore, pulled his broom around sharply, diving as he did so, but it still wasn't enough; he whipped through the cloud, finding it, not like butter, as he had always childishly imagined, but wet and even colder than the night sky, which was almost unbelievable.

He finished the dive and came out on the other side of the cloud, soaking wet and shivering.

'Bloody clouds,' he muttered, running his hand over his face, upwards, to get rid of some of the water now running into his eyes. It was then that Draco decided to stop flying for the night; he hadn't seen the cloud a minute before the "crash", when he had looked up. In his opinion, it was getting too dark to see.

He dived a bit lower, so he could make out individual houses and trees. He spotted an excellent landing point behind some bushes; it was sheltered from the road, and yet not visible to the house to which it belonged. Glancing around quickly, he sped toward the ground, aiming for behind the bush, but collided with it instead.

Wincing in pain, Draco extracted himself from the prickly shrub and squatted down behind it.

'Ow,' he said quietly, as he pulled his cloak free of a branch. 'Stupid bloody bushes. Why would anyone want one of these? What's wrong with a daisy bush for Merlin's sake?!' He glared at the offending plant, as though being planted there was its own fault, then looked toward the house, which was only ten feet away. Through an open window, he could see a woman sitting on a couch in front of a strange box which seemed to glow.

'Impossible,' he muttered, 'even Muggles aren't stupid enough to invent a _glowing box_!' He realised he was looking through a kitchen, but without anyone in there, he hadn't realised what it was; he was too preoccupied with strange Muggle contraptions. He supposed taking Muggle Studies would have been a good idea, but it had seemed so pointless at the time. It still did actually; the box was of no interest to him.

Standing up and grabbing his broomstick and bag, Draco crept out from behind his thorny shelter and snuck to the window, peering into it, completely fascinated. A man came out from a room, which looked like the bathroom, settled himself down beside the woman and put his arm around her. Now, Draco wasn't stupid; he knew what the gesture meant, but he felt a pang which came from the deepest, most hidden corner of his heart. Apart from Pansy (who didn't really count for much), no one had ever put their arm around him. He'd never felt as though some one had cared for him, really wanted to see him do well, for _himself, _and not for other people. He knew Lucius' reasons for being the way he was, but he didn't particularly like how he was treated.

Draco moved away from the window, across the yard. He vaulted the back fence and stepped out onto the footpath, his hands in his pockets, his broom slung across his back by a strip of leather. As he passed under a streetlight, Draco heard someone yelling in the distance. He looked up, not expecting to see anything, but he did; a man in a long, forest-green cloak was peering in bushes, carrying something in his right hand. Draco peered at it, and when the man turned, he saw it in all its ten-inch glory; a thick, ivory wand, clutched tightly.

Gasping, he took a step backwards, then turned and darted into the bushes by the side of the road. He peered out through some branches, and surveyed the man closely. How did they find him so soon? Dumbledore and the others would only just have figured out he was gone, surely? Had someone seen him leave and alerted someone? Draco's heart was beating painfully against his Adam's apple, and his hands were trembling, because he knew no one would believe he was out to _save _Hermione. After a moment or two of pure panic, a woman came out of the house behind the man.

'Dad!' she called crossly, striding down the path to him. 'Haven't I told you before not to wonder off? What are you doing with that piece of pipe? Is that from Danny's science project? Dad, you can't just take his things apart, you know …' her voice grew fainter as she took the old man by the arm and led him toward the house. Draco breathed a sigh of relief and laughed weakly. He was stupid to think they'd found him already; they wouldn't even know he was in this town, as this wasn't even his destination, but merely a stop along the way. Now that he was calmer, he realised that the cloak was nothing more than a green dressing gown.

Draco stepped out from the bushes once again and continued down the sidewalk, eager to find somewhere to sleep. But now he avoided the streetlights, fearful someone would see him. Who knew how many wizards were in this town?

After ten minutes, Draco found himself standing outside a house with a sign that read: _Collanew's Inn of Serenity_. Despite its strange, if somewhat corny name, Draco ascended the steps leading to the wooden door with stained glass panels to the left and right of the centre. The picture on the glass was of a dagger with gold hilt entwined in a rose. Draco thought it both odd and beautiful. Shrugging, he pushed it open and strode inside. The first thing his numb senses realised was the warmth. A fire was blazing in one wall, crackling invitingly to him. Draco closed his eyes, savouring the heat that alighted his senses and mind. When he opened them, he saw a young lady behind a dark oak counter, smiling serenely at him. He ignored her at first, choosing instead to take in the room.

It was painted pale yellow, but the bottom half of the walls were wood-panelled, making everything seem warm and inviting. A red sofa stood against the opposite wall to the fire, to his left, over which hung a portrait of a girl in a white-lace dress standing in the middle of a forest clearing, posed in mid-twirl, her hair and dress flowing as though in a breeze.

On either side of the counter was a red-stained wooden door, with a brass handle. Looking down, Draco realised he was standing on a dark red rug, which lay over dark floorboards. He glanced up again, and the woman's smile had not changed. He approached the counter apprehensively, not entirely sure how to do dealings with Muggles.

'Er – hello,' he said, when the woman didn't speak.

'Oh, hello, sir!' she beamed, her eyes focusing on him. 'How may I, at _Collanew's Inn of Serenity_, help you this fine evening?'

Draco glanced back at the stained-glass door through which he had come. It was certainly not evening any more; he decided this lady was somewhat out of it. _Good_, he thought, _I might be able to get away with this!_ He cleared his throat. The woman, whose eyes had focused on somewhere to his right, slid back to him, her smile still in place.

'I'd like a – er – a room for tonight. Please,' he added, for her smile had faltered. She hitched it back on her face and put one hand up to her dark red hair. Draco considered this very odd behaviour, as her hair was in a bun, and didn't look in the least like it was going to come out.

'A room, sir? Why of course! We have several rooms available at the moment, four of which contain a spa and TV.' She pulled a heavy-looking, brown book out from under the counter and set in on top, about three feet to Draco's right. She flicked it open and said, 'this room is available, as are the ones on pages three, eighty-four, seventeen, nine, twelve, and one hundred and eleven.'

'Er, thanks,' said Draco, moving down to the book. The woman smiled vaguely and stared at the stained-glass door. He flicked through the pages, so he looked like he was doing something; he really couldn't care less which room he took: if it had a bed, he was happy. He wasn't normally that simple, but he didn't know any Muggle contraptions, and didn't care about them. So he picked room eighteen, on page seventeen.

'That one, please,' he said, pointing to it. The lady looked at the page and her face fell.

'But that one doesn't have a spa _or _TV, sir!' she exclaimed, as though not having these features was a mortal sin. But Draco was used to sinning. He sneered at her.

'I don't care about spas and TVs!' he snapped. 'I just want that room!'

His waspish attitude must have brought her to her hospitality senses.

'Of course, sir,' she said graciously. 'That will be seven Galleons. If you'll care to follow me, I'll take you to your room.'

She took a brass key from a rack behind her and opened the red-stained door.

'This way,' she said unnecessarily.

Draco followed her into a hallway with dark wood panelling and dark wooden floorboards. It all looked very humble, but at the same time, strangely rich. The lady had passed a lot of red-stained doors with brass numbers on them, when she stopped, rather suddenly, beside one with '18' on it. She handed him the key, which had a tag with the number of which room it belonged to and pushed the door open. Draco hadn't seen her unlock it, even though it clearly was before.

'Thanks,' he said slowly, watching her shrewdly. What was _with _this woman? She was now staring off down the hallway, seemingly oblivious to him. She suddenly turned her head, so her large mop of red hair wobbled dangerously on her head.

'No problem, sir,' was the chipper response. 'If you need anything, I will be behind the counter!' Then, with no further ado, she glided off down the hall, back toward the front room. Draco did think she _glided _more than walked, but he didn't waste too much time on it.

He walked into his room, shutting and locking the door behind him. No one could be too careful, especially with that strange woman about. He turned into his room, trying to decide if it was suitable for a pureblood of his excellent breeding to stay in. His verdict was: _it'll do_.

The room was small and square, with only the tiniest variation of shape thanks to the bathroom, which, while also a square, was partly overlapping the room. The room contained two beds, a small refrigerator, a strange rectangular box which sat on a table, a lamp and another rectangular box that stood upright on the floor and came to about his waist in height. The room was painted pale yellow, like the front room, but with no wooden panelling. The carpet was navy blue with miniscule, pale blue diamonds.

He knew he'd stayed in an inn once, with his parents when he was younger, but he couldn't remember it very well, so he had nothing to compare this room to. For all he knew, it might be a standard room, or it could be the richest.

Draco took off his broomstick, bag and cloak and dropped them onto the spare bed. It was only after sinking onto the other bed, his head in his hands, that Draco realised the woman had said the room would cost _'seven Galleons'_. Not pounds, but Galleons. His tired mind tried to hold onto that thought, but it slipped away as sleep pushed it aside and he fell backwards, too tired to hold his head up.

_It was the summer holidays. Draco was standing outside the Library door, hoping to hear their conversation. He peered through a crack between the door and the wall, trying to see his father and the guest._

_'He wants us to go through with it, then?' the man was saying, and he passed in front of the gap, making Draco hold his breath, so as not to be heard._

_'Yes,' Lucius said, and Draco could hear him pacing. The man moved away from Draco's viewing hole. Now he could see partly see his father standing beside his desk, looking toward the fireplace. 'We have to be prepared, because when he says the word …' His words trailed off suggestively._

_'Yes,' agreed the man. 'We would not want to keep the Dark Lord waiting, especially when he has waited for just the right time. When do you suppose it shall be, Lucius?'_

_Lucius paused, apparently to think._

_'I'm not entirely sure, as neither are you, Nott, but I think it'll be in the holidays, or there about: the Dark Lord doesn't want Dumbledore meddling in this. It would be disastrous. But, then again, he might be going for the element of surprise, and so could be any time. We should get ready immediately, so we're ready to act.'_

_'Hmm,' said Nott thoughtfully. 'She'll be easy to take? If they are as good friends as Draco says, I can't see Potter letting her go without a strong fight.'_

_'That's exactly what the Dark Lord's banking on,' said Lucius impatiently. 'If Potter gets wind of her kidnapped, he'll go to her aid immediately. She is on her own at school – occasionally, but not often – so it is possible he will take her then. However, and this is just my opinion, she'd be much easier to kidnap during the holidays, but that is only if she goes home … _without _Potter and Weasley. If she stays at Hogwarts, we might have to act then. The Dark Lord might even wait till the summer.' Lucius shrugged._

_Nott laughed, a cold, humourless laugh._

_'And once we have the Mudblood –'_

_'– Potter will come to us –'_

_'– And we will finish him off!' Nott paused in his sadistic laughter. 'But what if Potter thinks it's a trap and we don't really have her?'_

_Lucius hesitated before answering. 'We kill her,' he said finally. 'Potter will come after us for revenge … then we will take him!'_

_The pair laughed again, sending excited chills down Draco's back._

_He leaned back against the wall, smirking. So that was what his father had been discussing with Narcissa the past few days. He had known _something _was up, and now he knew! The Death Eaters were planning on kidnapping Granger to lure Potter to them … _Hey, _he thought nastily, _it worked once, with that Black man, so why shouldn't it work again? Of course, _he reasoned with himself, _last time Potter had "seen" Black: how would he know Granger was gone? _Draco knew his father and Nott would figure it out: they were smart, malicious men, and they knew how to play dirty._

_Draco admired that about his father … most of the time. There were times when Draco wished they were a normal family, where he didn't have to worry about being mean and cold, but he loved his parents despite … everything._

_More laughter filtered through the wooden library doors. Draco stepped away from the wall, pleased with his detective skills._

_He wandered down the hall … he should go outside … why was his sight becoming blurry? … He fell, but reached no floor … _

Draco sat straight up, gasping for air and shaking. His gaze flicked around the room several times before remembering where he was. He sighed and slid back down to the end of the bed.

What had that been about? He tried to remember, grasping at the details … he had a feeling that it hadn't been good … suddenly, as though he was doused in cold water, everything about the dream came flooding back, right down to the feeling of the wall as he'd leant against it. Even the slight breeze that came from the gap between the wall and door pushed into his mind, crowding it.

It hadn't been a dream, he realised suddenly. It had been a memory. _His _memory. Now he remembered Nott visiting his father and listening in to their conversation.

Draco groaned and glanced toward the window; the light that was filtering in from around the heavy curtain told him it was day already. He stood up, wincing slightly at the pain from his head; he hadn't slept on the pillow, as he'd just fallen backwards onto the bed.

He walked groggily into the bedroom then, after he'd had a shower (no Malfoy ever embarks on a rescue mission without proper cleaning), grabbed his stuff; he now knew what he had to do: Hermione had been kidnapped by Nott, as part of the "master plan" to do in Potter. Draco couldn't care less about Potter, or Hermione of that matter, but his sanity and freedom were on the line, here, so he had to do something.

He grabbed his broomstick, slung it over his shoulder, so it would sit on his back again, then his bag, stuffing his cloak into it: he was wearing plain Muggle clothes that consisted of black pants and a black t-shirt, and didn't think he should be any more obvious than he already was, thanks to his broom.

It was only as he was locking his room and caught sight of the number 18 on it, that he remembered the strange woman and her mention of Galleons. This memory shocked him as much as his previous one. So it was with barely contained curiosity that he opened the wooden door at the end of the hall, the one that led to the front room.

There she was, standing behind the counter, a vague smile on her face, while her previously-red hair was dirty blonde and fell down to her waist. This caught him by surprise too, and he stared at it for a minute before walking into the room and shutting the door loudly behind him. The lady didn't budge.

'Hi,' he said politely, approaching the counter cautiously. The woman looked around at him and beamed in her blank, expressionless way.

'Why, hello there, sir! You're checking out, then? Did you enjoy your stay?'

'Er, yes, thank you,' said Draco, placing the key down. He looked at her shrewdly for a minute, until she suddenly laughed. He jumped and took a step back; this woman seemed to be in need of a little sanity herself.

'You're wondering about me, aren't you, sir?' She grinned at him, but this wasn't much improvement from the vacant beaming. 'Don't worry, you're not going mad!'

Draco thought it useless to point out that he was more worried about her going mad than him.

'Not only does this inn support Muggles, it's also a popular spot for wizards.'

This surprised him on two accounts. One was that he hadn't even thought about a _wizarding _inn, but the other –

'How did you know I'm a wizard?' He was quite startled about this information: if what Fudge had said was true, he would be wanted by now; he couldn't afford anyone knowing who he was.

But the woman merely laughed again.

'Most Muggles do not carry broomsticks around on their backs.'

Now it was Draco's turn to grin: he should have expected that. What did he expect people to think when they saw him? Embarrassed, he looked down, then back up.

'Are you a witch?' he asked.

'Yep,' she said cheerfully, gesturing around. 'A witch in a Muggle inn.'

Draco followed her hands as they flew through the air, signalling the room around her. But his eyes stopped in their tracks as he caught sight of a clock.

'Is that the time?' he asked stupidly, his stomach taking a great leap.

The woman looked around.

'Yes, I suppose so,' she answered, 'we have charmed it so it will always tell the time, so I guess it's right.'

Draco fumbled around in his bag until he managed to pull out seven Galleons, then slapped them onto the counter. Eleven o'clock was late in the day to be moving out.

'In a hurry?' said the woman, slipping the Galleons into her register.

'Yes,' Draco said, slipping from the leather strap that was tied to his broomstick. 'A huge hurry.' He finally grabbed the broom properly and almost ran to the front door. 'Thank you!' he called over his shoulder as he threw the door open. 'It's a nice inn!' He had no idea why he said that, as he'd only seen two rooms, but it seemed the right thing to say.

He ran onto the lawn in front of the inn, looked around to make sure no one could see him, but he was shielded by bushes, so there was only a small chance of that. The day was overcast, so he decided to fly above the clouds, only going beneath them to see where he was and if he should change his course.

Draco looked back toward the inn one more time before kicking off from the ground. He soared above the clouds, ignoring the cold dampness from them, but his heart beat faster as he suddenly recalled something from his dream:

_'But what if Potter thinks it's a trap and we don't really have her?'_

_'We kill her.'_


	8. Flight To The Servant

A/N: …and we are back online!!! Sorry for the HUGE delay, people. grins sheepishly I – er – had writer's block for a little while. Then the holidays came (in Australia we have 4 terms to a year and 2 week hols during each, except for the holidays between years (our summer-December/January), which is 6 weeks. So we had a 2 week holiday, basically), and me and my best friend went interstate to a writing camp with a famous (and brilliant) Australian author, John Marsden. Mention in your review (which you will do eyes everyone beadily) if you've heard of him. Anyway, since we had to travel a long way, we left 3 (4? Was it 4?) days PRIOR to the camp, and … some days after it. Anyway, we were gone for a week all up. Then, when we got back I was recuperating. So I'm very sorry. But I've written it now, so you can all love me! (Laugh people, it was a joke! Sheesh! ) I've already written the next 2 chapters, so Chapter 8 will be posted in about a week, then 9 … then the others as I write them. MWAHAHAHA! You know, I don't even know if anyone reads this. I could be writing this A/N to no one. What a sad thought. If you read this, let me know in your review, OK? (As above! ) Anyway (again). Reviewing the Reviews! One of my favourite things to do!: 

**Silver Mist4: **You are very loyal and good to me! Hugs SilverMist4 Why do you not want Hermione to live??? I hope you like this chapter as much!

**Auditoriumnazi****: **Wow. Aloha to you! I loved your review! How did you know there was going to be a battle?!?!?!

**Dotty: **I'm sorry I didn't obey your request, and I hope you're not dead!

**Clichebrat****: **Thank you! bows I thought the galleon thing was a nice touch meself!

**bLuECoW219: **Well, this update isn't soon, but there you have it. It's updated now.

**Nella**** Radcliffe: **Cool name! winks I know you only reviewed on Chapter3, so you probably wouldn't be up to here yet, but hey! shrugs A little surprise for you when you do. I am known for my originality! You better write more reviews!!!

Chapter 7: Flight to the Servant 

As he headed further south, the air became slightly warmer, and Draco found that he was no longer stuck to his broom. Even so, he didn't like to move around too much in the air.

Looking down, he realised that he was flying over a small town. He banked sharply to bring himself out from over it. Even from the height from which he soared along, Draco could see individual people on the streets. He flew further away, keeping his eyes down to make sure no Muggles – or wizards, for that matter – looked up and saw him.

The day wore on, and as lunchtime rolled around, Draco began feeling extremely hungry, which wasn't surprising, as he'd had no breakfast. Spotting a clearing by a stream in the forest below him, he dived towards it, grinning giddily as the wind whipped through his hair, stinging his face and wiping all fatigue from his mind.

Feet from the ground, he pulled up sharply and landed with only a slight bump.

'And they say Potter's a better flyer than me,' he said loudly, the smile still on his face.

He picked up his broomstick and went to the stream's edge. There was a large, smooth rock next to it, so he sat on that, lying his broom by his side: he didn't want to be away from it, just in case.

It wasn't a large clearing: perhaps a circumference of eleven feet. The clear stream ran more to one side, but more or less in the middle, while a few large rocks dotted the ground. The grass was quite long: it came up to about his ankles, but it wasn't long enough to hide large snakes. It was quite dark and cool, as the pines around the edges towered in their ages, hiding the clearing from the sun. But what got him most of all was the silence: even in the most deserted corridor of Hogwarts, you could hear the _whoosh _of a cloak, or the squeaking of the suits of armour. But here, there was nothing. Not even any birds. If he cared to sit perfectly still, the only sound would have been the slight breeze playing around the trees.

Pulling his bag off his back and around to his chest, Draco dipped his hand in and pulled out a bread roll, some salad – lettuce, tomato, cucumber – and a couple of slices of ham, which he'd kept cool with a freezing charm, done only half-way.

As he put together his little picnic, he thought about his situation. It seemed impossible to escape. If Hermione was really taken by Nott and Lucius, how would he, Draco, get her back? Perhaps he could explain the situation to his father … surely Lucius would let her go if he realised his son could be in trouble? If not … well, he'd think about that if it happened. He knew he couldn't go back to Hogwarts without her, for his own sake, but _how _was a completely different matter. He wasn't as physically strong as many of the Death Eaters, and knew about half the magic. He was, after all, sixteen and, as yet, only a novice in the Dark Arts. They would all have a huge advantage over him. He had stealth on his side, because he was slight, but he didn't have an Invisibility Cloak, or the power to cast a spell of such magnitude upon himself. So, how to sneak in, rescue Hermione _and _get out again, all without being seen? It seemed nearly impossible, but he supposed if he had to do it, he could. The transport back was easily solved, but undesirable: they'd have to share his broomstick. That was assuming, of course, the Mudblood didn't attack him and push him off. He might have to stun her…

Busy with his thoughts, Draco didn't realise time was passing. When his train of thought broke off, it was quite late in the afternoon.

'Bugger,' he muttered. He stuffed the rest of the roll into his mouth – his thoughts had distracted him so much he hadn't actually eaten much –, filled his empty flask with water, splashed his face down and stood up again. His butt was cold from the rock and he was shivering slightly as he climbed back on his broom.

He kicked off from the ground and continued his flight over land and lake, careful to stay _below _the clouds tonight. He kept an eye on his compass, and only had to adjust his course twice.

He saw the village around five o'clock, in the near distance: the lights alerted him as the sky had darkened somewhat. His stomach leapt as his mind whispered, _this is it. Any minute now Nott's manor will come into view and I'll have to rescue the person who I wish I didn't have to rescue._

He had mixed emotions about the whole mission: one part of him was glad he'd get her back to school and clear his name; another was feeling extremely resentful, mainly at his father, but also at Hermione: _why did the stupid girl have to go and get herself kidnapped? I mean, for heaven's sake, I thought she was the smartest girl in school?_ And yet another part was secretly thrilled and excited by the prospect of rescuing someone, especially a girl. That part didn't care that Hermione Granger was a Mudblood; that part didn't care that they hated each other and she would like his help _least _of everyone in world. It didn't care that if he didn't get her, he'd be in trouble: it only cared that Hermione was a damsel in distress, and someone he must rescue. He decided it must be the Gryffindor part of him.

Coming into Wolfshaw, the village, Draco flew much lower. He could see Nott's manor on the far side of the village, behind huge locked gates and a long driveway, and it gave him a strong feeling of foreboding.

He flew over the length of the village … he was nearly there … feeling suddenly sick, he swooped lower to the ground, where he tumbled off and threw up in a clump of thick bushes.

'Hey!' shouted a voice from behind him.

Draco stood up and turned around, wiping his mouth. The caller was a man in his thirties, with a scruffy black beard and long nose. Behind him, Draco now saw, was a small pub, its lights flooding the ground in front of it, Draco in plain view.

'Are you alright?' asked the man, as he continued to approach Draco, who panicked and held up a hand.

'Stop!' he commanded. The man stopped. Who was he? Might he be a Death Eater? If he was, Draco couldn't afford for the man to know who he was. Just in case. 'Who are you?' he asked, in a would-be calm voice.

'Name's Alfredo Mortimor,' said the man cautiously; he obviously felt something similar to Draco. 'And who're you?'

Draco thought quickly, weighing up his options. He could tell the man his name – he might simply be a Muggle – but he could also be a Death Eater – or someone in contact with Dumbledore or Fudge …

'William – er – Myles,' said Draco, pulling the first name from his head. _Where did that come from?_

'Myles, eh? Not related to Jeffery Myles, are yeh?' said Mortimor gruffly.

'Who? Um, no,' said Draco, utterly bewildered.

'Right,' continued the man, and his voice was much warmer. 'Good on yeh, lad! Fancy a drink?'

Draco blinked.

'No thank you,' he said as politely as he could manage. 'I have some – uh – business to tend to.'

Mortimor raised his eyebrows.

'Business?' he echoed disbelievingly, 'at your age? What kinda business?'

'It's of the _personal _sort,' said Draco coldly. Sixteen-year-olds could have business; it wasn't limited to adults only!

'Ah, right,' said Mortimor knowledgably. 'When is this – uh – _business _of your gonna be over?'

'Soon, hopefully.'

'Right. Well. When yeh've finished your business, come an' have a drink with me an' me mates, alright lad?'

'Right.' Draco muttered, turning away. He heard Mortimor lumbering away. _Idiot_, he thought contemptuously, picking up his broomstick. He felt a little better after that talk with Mortimor, though it was unclear to him _why_; it must have just taken his mind off Nott and Hermione.

He looked around behind him; the coast was clear; Mortimor must have gone back into the pub.

'Bloody drunk,' Draco muttered to himself, wiping his mouth again and clambering onto his broomstick. Taking a deep breath, he kicked off from the ground into the cool night air. He glanced down as he rose, but neither Mortimor nor anyone else came out of the pub. He turned his attentions to Nott's manor instead, and flew with purpose.

He soared over the high, black gates that were fitted with sharp spikes at the top, and into the dark grounds. His heart was hammering against his rib cage and his breaths were shaky. His broom moved slightly off course, his hands were that bad. Then he stopped flying altogether, and simply sat in mid-air. It suddenly struck him that Hermione could be in any room of the manor … he would probably need to hear from Nott where she was, or he could search for her for a week and not have any luck.

Draco's eyes scaled the manor, searching for signs of life – lights were on everywhere, but that didn't mean anything … there! In the forth-floor study! He could see a silhouette moving against the candle-light. It was too beefy to be Mrs Nott, and Theodore would only fit that body if he stuffed his clothes with pillows; he took after his mother in stature. So it had to be, in all likeliness, Nott.

He aimed his broom and flew slightly to the left of the window, to stay out of view. There was no balcony, but the window ledge was wide, so he landed carefully on that, and, holding his broom in his right hand, made his was carefully along the ledge, toward the window.

He tried to steady his breathing, tried to make his footsteps as silent as possible … the window was slightly ajar – that was good for him … carefully, carefully …

He successfully positioned himself at the side of the window, and if he leant around a little, he could see right in. He'd have to be oh-so-careful, though. His right hand against the cold stone of the wall, his right clutching the comforting wood of his broomstick, he got down on one knee and peered into the study.

It was large room, walled with bookshelves, only half of which were filled: Draco knew Nott to be an avid Dark Arts Practiser, but not one for much reading, even on that matter. A huge oak desk stood in front of the window, facing away from it. The door was on the opposite side of the room to the desk, and they were in a direct line to each other. On the wall left to the desk, the one Draco couldn't see, he assumed there must be a fire, because he could see its dancing flames on the opposite wall. A thick, dark blood-red rug covered the wooden floorboards. It gave off the appearance of warmth, but Draco was sure the fact the rug was blood-red had some significance.

He couldn't see any people, though. He was beginning to think he'd flown to the wrong room, when Nott suddenly strode into the centre off the room; he appeared to have been standing near the fire. Draco gasped and pulled backwards, terrified that Nott had seen him. A quick glance back into the room proved, however, that he hadn't: he was sitting at his desk, calmly writing out something, chuckling gently to himself. Draco breathed a quiet sigh of relief and put a hand over his racing heart, willing it to be quiet.

A minute or two passed, in which Draco could feel his knee cramping up from the stone ledge and the cold. Then, as he was starting to get impatient –

The door banged open and a large man strode into the room, a man that Draco had only met twice …

'Nott!' barked Mulciber, stopping in the middle of the room. A smaller man entered behind him, fending off Mrs Nott.

'No, thank you, Ma'am,' he said, 'I'm fine!' As soon as he was in the room, he slammed the door in his face before turning to Nott angrily. 'You're wife is a curse!' he hissed.

Nott stood up.

'Don't you _dare _insult my wife, you arrogant, snivelling little –'

'Nott!' said Mulciber again, glaring at the smaller man, whom Draco had never seen before. Nott's head snapped around to him.

'What?' he asked, obviously irritated.

'The _plan_,' said Mulciber impatiently. 'What's the _plan_?!'

'Oh, yes!' said Nott, having just remembered. He walked around his desk and leant against the front, facing the two men. Draco couldn't see his face but when he spoke, he knew he was smiling. 'Right. I'm glad you're both here, then! It's all organised. We're putting it into action Wednesday, and then Lucius estimates Potter will come on Thursday or Friday: it is, after all, a bit of a hike!' The three men laughed viciously. 'Now. Rules.' Nott walked around to the right side of his desk, to collect some papers. Draco saw him give Mulciber and the other man piercing glares.

'Rules?' said the small man flatly. 'We are Death Eaters! We do not have rules!'

'Shut up, Jugson,' said Mulciber angrily. 'What are the rules?' he asked Nott.

Nott turned back to the men. 'They are very strict,' he said, the hint of frustration in his voice. 'Number one: we must drive her insane –'

Jugson laughed. Mulciber and Nott glared at him.

'This is no joke, Jugson,' snapped Nott. 'Disobey these rules and _you _will find yourself at the mercy of the Dark Lord.'

Jugson shut up, but he looked quite disgruntled.

'We are allowed to torture her, in any way we see fit, as long as she keeps both her sanity and her life. However,' he directed his gaze to Mulciber, 'we are not allowed to rape her.'

Now Mulciber looked put out.

'No rape?' he repeated dumbly. Jugson laughed again.

'Why would _we _want to rape a _Mudblood_?'

'That's right, Mulciber,' said Nott, ignoring Jugson. 'No raping. We are allowed to make her _think _we would, even if that involves touches of the … _sexual _nature …' Nott grinned.

Mulciber also grinned, and Jugson rolled his eyes, but neither spoke for a moment. Then -

'Any other … _rules_?' said Jugson scathingly. Nott looked down at his paper.

'No, that pretty much covers it, I think. But when we take her, don't limit yourself to gentleness: be tough and make sure she knows you're the boss. Rough her up if you have to, but make sure she doesn't escape.'

'Right,' said Jugson, but Mulciber wasn't finished yet. 'What class will she be in?'

'Class? She won't be in a _class_, you moron!' snapped Nott. 'How would we get away with that? No, Wednesday afternoon there is a special trip to Hogsmeade for the senior students (fifth-year up), because they all have a free period: there is a ball next Friday night, they all have special permission to … _shop till they drop_.' He laughed, but Draco was confused.

What did they mean, get her? Didn't they already _have her_?

'When Granger wanders off by herself – as she's sure to do, because her two friends wouldn't be much help in beauty matters – we'll put the Imperius Curse on her and guide her over to us. Then we grab her and bring her back here!'

They all laughed heartily, but Draco barely heard them. His heart was no longer hammering, and his breathing had slowed right down. He felt strange: calm, yet full of panic. _So, _he thought slowly, trying to wrap his mind around it. _They don't have Granger yet. They are planning to take her. Which means she's not here …_

'Which means someone _else _has her!' he said out loud, without thinking.

The silence inside the room alerted Draco to what he did wrong: he stared at the slightly open window in horror. They would have been able to hear him, even if they couldn't work out what he said. He leant forward again and peered into the room. Mulciber and Jugson were standing so still, Draco would have thought someone had cast a body binding spell on them. Nott, however, was walking silently towards the window: he couldn't see out now, but when he got to the window and opened it …

Draco stood up, his heart beating fast again. He backed up until he was on the edge of the window ledge, then leapt off the same time he jumped onto his broomstick. He had the awful feeling of freefalling before his broom caught his weight and he was flying again. He leant forward, over the handle, and the broom hurtled away from the window, just as it was flung wide.

'INTRUDER!' Nott roared, and there was a sudden deafening sound like a horn being blown right in his ear before Draco realised it was the sound of a hundred voices all yelling 'INTRUDER' as one.

Panic gripped his stomach like someone had bound it in iron; he fought to breathe as he urged his broom faster … a shout reached him threw the air, even though the words were unrecognisable … then, like a crack of a whip, he heard a rushing sound and suddenly his broom was on fire: he yelled and twisted around to look. The tail was alight, like a bright beacon in the sky. Then it hit him: it _was _a beacon! Nott had set his broom alight when he could still just make him out, so he could fire a well-aimed spell at him.

The heat was hurting both his butt and face, as the wood heated up beneath his body. Suddenly, a blue-white light was rushing towards him – Draco recognised it as a spell – he tried to turn, but his broom couldn't fly well enough – the spell hit the tail of his broom, and after a splitting sound, it was suddenly gone, and Draco was falling.

As he fell towards the ground, Draco strained his already-beaten mind to think of a spell to save him. Not one came to mind. He turned over in the air and watched the ground come closer … the wind rushed over his face and through his hair, but wasn't anywhere near as pleasant as when he was diving on his broomstick.

The wind turned him over again once more before slamming him into the ground, the top of his legs first, then his back, then his head. It was a close contest, though.

Draco stared up at the inky black sky, not breathing. _Come on, _he urged himself silently, _breathe, Draco, _breathe! Finally, he opened his mouth and drew in a big gulp of air, then another. He felt light-headed and dizzy as he turned his head to the right. Part of his broomstick, still alight, was lying about five feet from him, giving off some warmth. But, even though the heat was quite pleasant, he knew they'd be looking for any sign of fire, so he sat up.

'Ahh!' he gasped as he did, then groaned: his body hurt as though he was the one on fire, not the broom. As he tried to stand, he put both hands on the ground to elevate himself, but he let out a gasp of pain as his right wrist touched the ground. He held his arm up and looked at the wrist: it was swelling already. He'd sprained it. Gritting his teeth and letting out the smallest of groans, Draco dragged himself to his feet. He took slow, steadying breaths before trying to walk. OK, it was painful, but he'd manage.

He looked up; he'd just fallen four stories and he could still walk.

'Miracle,' he muttered, wondering if it was worth it: he was still at least a half a mile from the gates, he guessed, and if he knew the Nott's, there would be some other _thing _guarding the manor: there certainly was at his own house, so he supposed there would be at least one somethings at this one.

Holding his arm away from his body so his wrist wouldn't hit him, he walked as quickly as he could away from the house, presumably toward the gates, or at least the fence. Soon he was nowhere near the fires, so he slowed his pace a bit. He knew they would all be in the ground now, but there wasn't anything he could do about that.

After a few minutes of walking, in which both Draco's heart and nerves calmed a bit, he heard a strange high-pitched cackling, coming from a clump of trees a few feet from him. He backed up a little, not taking his eyes of the trees. He went to get his wand from his pocket, but when he pulled it out, his wrist protested loudly and painfully, and he dropped his wand.

_Where is it? _He thought desperately, scanning the ground. Suddenly, a movement out the corner of his eye made him stand up, his swollen wrist pounding with his pulse. There was no sound except for his beating heart for a moment or two, then –

Something ran at him, moving very quickly. He didn't even see it properly until it ran past him and he felt a sharp pain down his left arm: looking down, he saw whatever it was a scratched him. He stifled a yell and instead focused on whatever it was.

It paused about five feet away from him, its eyes glinting in the dark. It was dark, almost as dark as the night, with a pointed face and large eyes. It was covered in a kind of coarse fur, but its hands, face and feet were devoid of it. It stood about three feet tall, give or take a few inches. Draco recognised it straight away: it was an Erkling, an elfish creature which originated from Germany. Luckily, he was bigger than it: if he was a small child he would have more trouble.

'Come closer, little Erkling,' Draco called softly to it, bending down a little so it would think him easy prey. 'Come and get small, pitiful Draco …'

A loud, rustling noise sounded behind him, like something big and vicious bursting out trees. Draco froze, took a deep breath, then turned around to face the trees.

At least thirty Erklings stood there, having emerged from the trees.

'Oh crap,' said Draco, staring at them all. One was one thing. Thirty was something else.

Without any kind of warning, all thirty were suddenly running at him, dissolving and re-appearing in the dark. The first two leapt and hit him in the chest, as another one latched onto his right wrist. Draco let out a yell of pain as the teeth sank into his swollen wrist, tearing at it. One of the Erklings on his chest went for his throat, making horrible gnashing noises with its teeth. Draco grabbed its throat with his left wrist and threw it away. He twisted violently, and even though it hurt his wrist, the second Erkling fell from his chest. He bent lower to the ground and placed his foot on the Erkling that was hanging from his bleeding wrist. He put pressure on his foot, hoping it would let go, but no such luck. As he raised his foot to squash the cretin, a screeching filled the air behind him. He turned just in time to see five Erkling rushing at him, before they leapt onto his back and started ripping at his clothes. Yelling in pain, Draco was forced to the ground under the weight. He ignored the pain in his wrist, as it wasn't even comparable to the pain his back was in, and he bucked and twisted, trying to unseat the Erklings. His body was on fire – they had every inch of him – one ripped at his face, tearing his lip – he saw his wand on the ground near him, only a few feet away. He stretched his body; reached … an Erkling suddenly grabbed the back of his neck.

Draco yelled in anger and pain, reached his hand over his head, grabbed the Erkling by the scruff of its neck and threw it as hard as he could. Then he tried again … nearly there … yes!

He gripped his wand tightly and brought it back to his body so no Erkling would get it. He rolled onto his side with great difficulty and aimed his wand at his wrist, which the Erkling was still hanging off of.

'_Relashio__!' _he gasped, and hot sparks shot out of his wand at the Erkling. It let out a yell and let go, scrambling away, nursing its head. He said the spell three more times, each time catching a creature. A couple scrambled away, but most he got with the Impediment Jinx. He stood up, all the Erkling cowering away from him. One rushed at him.

'_Stupefy!' _Draco yelled. The Erkling dropped to the ground, unconscious. The others didn't look so keen now. 'Don't like magic, do you?' he sneered, wiping some blood of his face. 'Why don't you all go back to your trees and let me go, eh?'

The all ran off, glancing over their shoulders at him. Draco nodded and turned away, wincing. He was torn pretty bad: his right wrist was not only sprained, now it was cut and bleeding: His shirt was pretty mangled, and his back was bleeding too – he could feel it. He had numerous bite marks on his face, but most weren't too bad, except for a gash above his eyebrow and a cut lip. All in all, he was pretty mangled himself.

'And they wonder why I don't like magical creatures!' he muttered, as he set off toward the gate, limping now.

When he reached the fence, he leant his head against the cold metal, feeling the coolness soothing his burning face.

He was breathing heavily still, mostly because he was trying to ignore the pain. He'd healed some of his cuts, but he couldn't see most of them, which made it too tricky to do while walking.

Draco lifted his head and looked out through the bars: below, in the town, he could see the pub's lights. He could stay the night there. He'd have a mirror then, and he could heal his wounds.

He stood back from the fence and looked up. If only he still had his broomstick. He looked at the bars. Too close together for even him to get through. He sighed and pulled out his wand with his left hand.

'_Spatiumus__,' _he said, pointing his wand at the bars. He then shoved it back in his pocket, took hold of a bar and pulled it to the right. It was a bit of a strain, but the bar stretched and bent, like rubber. Then he did the same to the one on the other side. Soon he had a gap large enough for him to squeeze through. The spell would've worked better if he'd used his right hand, but that was out of the question at the moment.

He still had his bag, which seemed a miracle in itself, so he took it off, squeezed through the gap, then brought his bag through. He locked his eyes onto the well-lit pub down the hill and set off towards it, wincing on every other step.

Ten minutes later, Draco pushed the pub's wooden door open and stepped inside. It was filled with the smell of alcohol and wood smoke, but it felt warm.

The man Draco had met earlier that night, Alfredo Mortimor, was sitting at the bar, drinking and talking loudly. He looked around when the door opened, as did a lot of the other men; there were no women.

'William Myles!' cried Mortimor, his words slurred. Then his eyes took in Draco's appearance.

'Blimey!' said another man at the bar.

'William!' said Mortimor, getting off his stool and swaying a bit. 'What happened to yeh, lad?'

'Business,' said Draco dryly, approaching the bar. Mortimor's eyes twinkled.

'Ah yes,' he said, grinning at his friends. 'A sixteen-year-old's business,' he winked, 'very important, and very secret. But,' he added, looking at Draco again, 'I don't know whether I like this business of yours. It seems to me – _hic _– that it's a little – _hic ­– _dangerous.'

'This was just a drawback,' said Draco coolly, sitting on a stool next to Mortimor. He definitely needed a drink. 'Besides,' he added on sudden inspiration, 'I'm not sixteen.'

'Yeh not sixteen?' said Mortimor. Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

'Nope,' he said instead, 'nineteen.'

The bar erupted with laughter. Draco looked at them all, getting angrier the longer he laughing continued. Finally, the barman stopped and leant on the bar, looking Draco in the eye.

'I don't care how old yeh are, laddie,' he said in a thick Scottish accent. 'Yeh could be fourteen fer all I care. If yeh gonna pay, I'll serve yeh a drink.'

'Right,' said Draco, who now felt foolish. Beside him, Mortimor wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

'Yer alright, William Myles,' he said joyfully. 'Cormag!' he ordered suddenly. 'Get Mr Myles here a drink!'

'Right yeh are, Alf!' said Cormag. Then – 'What would Mr Myles like?'

'Uh …' said Draco. The truth was, he had no idea what Muggles drank.

'Get 'im a Firewhisky!' said Mortimor, clapping Draco hard on the back.

'Firewhisky?' said Draco stupidly; that was a wizard's drink: what was it doing in a Muggle's bar?

But Mortimor laughed. 'Don't look so surprised, lad! This is a wizard's bar by night, it is; both Muggles and wizards by day.'

Draco stared at him. Was every place he went into going to be a coven for wizards? How was he going to keep anonymous if they were all bloody wizards?

'I suppose the broomstick earlier gave me away?' he said, remembering what the nutty woman at the inn had said.

'Yep!' agreed Mortimor.

Cormag put a glass in front of him and filled it with a red-brown drink. Then he poured some more red in, stirred it and pushed it toward him.

'I trust you've had one of these before?' said Cormag suspiciously.

''Course!' said Draco, as if that question was highly insulting. The truth was, however, was that apart from a sip of wine occasionally at home, he'd only ever had Butterbeer; his parents were very strict on that. He decided to take it slowly. He took a sip. The liquid was very hot, and felt like it was burning his mouth, then his throat. He gasped as it went down and clutched at his throat. Already he felt slightly light-headed.

The men all laughed again, but this time Draco ignored them.

'Never mind!' said Mortimor, slapping him on the back again. This time his hand hit one of Draco's cuts and the boy yelped in pain. Everyone stared at him. 'Yeh alright, William?' Mortimor was watching him.

'Yeah,' said Draco, feeling his cheeks burning. 'Yeah, I'm fine.'

He sat looking at his hands wrapped around his glass as the men around him started talking. He was partly listening, and from what he picked up, they were all Purebloods. _Good, _he thought. He liked being around people like him.

'Disgusting!' said one man loudly, commenting on something another had said. The first man nodded.

'I know! Could sense her a mile off! Those house-elves should be dismissed if their masters had any dignity! They'd reek of her now.'

Draco lifted his head. This sounded half-interesting.

'What?'

'A group of house-elves,' said a third man. 'Oscar here says he saw 'em with a Mudblood.'

'Damn right,' said Oscar. 'Just walking down the street, no shame whatsoever. Course, they were looking pretty shifty. Bloody house-elves. Dunno why any self-respecting wizard'd let his slaves run around with Mudbloods.'

'Maybe the Mudblood kidnapped them?' suggested a podgy man sitting at a table.

'Nah,' said Oscar, shaking his head. 'She actually looked kind of reluctant, you know? All the house-elves were holding her hands or walking ahead or behind, looking around.'

'It's odd alright,' said Cormag, shaking his own head. 'Not a natural sight, Mudbloods and house-elves.'

But Draco was thinking now.

'What did she look like? The Mudblood, I mean?' he said to Oscar. Oscar thought for a moment.

'Not very tall … brown hair – kinda bushy, you know? Thin. Not bad looking, actually.'

Draco's heart skipped a bit.

'What was she wearing?' he said, in a would-be-calm voice.

'What is this, twenty questions?' said a fourth man, but Oscar ignored him and instead focused on Draco.

'Hard to tell, really: she was wearing a black cloak. Grey skirt … grey jumper … grey socks, black shoes … kinda looked like a school uniform, actually. Why?'

'No reason,' said Draco, taking a large gulp of Firewhisky to calm his nerves. What did it mean? Oscar had definitely described Hermione. But why did house-elves have her? What was going on? His head felt light, like it was floating away from him. He groaned and put his hands on either side of his head. He heard Cormag laugh, though it sounded distant.

'The boy drank too much in one go! Poor lad …'

Draco opened his eyes and tried to focus on Cormag.

'No, I'm fine,' he said thickly, blinking hard; two Cormags were swimming in his vision. He knew there was only one _really_, so he blinked again, trying to bring them together. His body felt very hot. The vision of both Cormags faded, the colours dimmed, the sounds of the bar grew fainter …

He slipped off his tool onto the floor, unconscious. A few of the men laughed. Mortimor tutted and slipped off his own stool.

'Yeh got a spare room, Cormag?' he asked.

'Sure do,' replied Cormag, getting a key off the wall behind the bar and coming around from behind the bar.

Mortimor bent down, put one hand under Draco's legs, the other around his back and scooped him up.

'He's awfully light for sixteen,' said Mortimor, following Cormag out of the main bar room.

'What do yeh think happened to 'im?' asked Cormag, as they climbed the stairs.

'Dunno.' Mortimor looked at his bloodied face. He also had a large bruise on one cheek. 'His broomstick's gone, and look at him … I'd say he was attacked.'

'No kidding,' said Cormag sarcastically. 'Here we are, Alfredo.'

He unlocked a door and they went in. The room was sparsely furnished, with a wooden dresser, bed and chair. Alfredo laid Draco's body on the bed and took out his wand.

'What are yeh gonna do?' said Cormag nervously.

'Just heal these.' Mortimor motioned to the many cuts, bites and bruises. He muttered a few healing spells and most of the cuts closed up, the ones on his back especially well. 'These'll still bleed,' he said, motioning to those that hadn't closed up properly. 'But he'll be OK … the cuts weren't infected with poison, so that's a plus…' he paused.

'What?' said Cormag. He was hovering by the window, which was near the bed.

'I think I should put an anti-tracing charm on 'im. At least for now,' he added, seeing the apprehensive look on Cormag's face.

'Do yeh think that's a good idea?'

'Do _you_ think the people who did this to him will like that he got away?' Mortimor yelled, swelling with anger. He didn't know why, but he felt responsible for this kid. He wanted to make sure he'd be OK.

Cormag shrugged.

'Fine. But what if someone _good _is looking for 'im?'

Mortimor hesitated.

'OK,' he agreed. 'But I'll put the charm on 'im for now. It'll last for … three days, alright? Just give 'im enough time to get away from … the people who want 'im.'

Cormag nodded and turned away. He heard Mortimor whisper something, then say:

'Alright, I'm done. We'll see him in the morning.' He chuckled. 'William's gonna have one hell of a headache in the morn!'

Chortling, both men left the room, leaving Draco to his alcohol-induced slumber.

Nott, Mulciber and Jugson stood over the remnants of the broomstick, looking at it.

'He's not here,' said Jugson.

Mulciber and Nott glared at him.

'You don't say?' said Nott sarcastically.

'Whose is it?' asked Mulciber, drawing the attention away from Jugson.

Nott bent down and picked up a part of the handle. On one side it said _Nimbus 2001. _On the other, engraved into the dark wood, it said: _Draco Malfoy_.

'Malfoy?' said Mulciber, his shock evident in his voice. 'Not – not Lucius' son?'

'The one and only,' said Nott dryly, standing back up.

'Only?' said Jugson. 'I thought –'

'But what would he be doing _here_?' said Mulciber, after glaring at Jugson, he looked at Nott. 'Why isn't he at school?'

Nott shook his head.

'I don't know,' he growled. 'Did you hear what he said outside the window?'

'Something about her being someone else?' said Mulciber, frowning.

'No,' said Jugson. 'Something about someone else having her, I think.'

They both looked at Nott. He hesitated

'I think Jugson's right on this one,' he said eventually. 'I'm sure he said someone else has her.'

'What could that mean?' asked Jugson.

'We are not the first ones thinking of kidnapping the Granger girl. We are also not the first ones to do it.'

The three Death Eaters stood in the grounds, the chilly air matching each one's heart, as one question raced through their minds: what would the Dark Lord do if they couldn't get the girl?


	9. The Lion's Departure

**A/N: **Hello there! Another chapter, another … chapter. Right. Anyway. Moving on. It hasn't been that long since I posted Chapter 7, so you shouldn't be too angry, right? Right? Course not. This isn't a long A/N because I haven't got anything to say, which is odd. I don't know how many people have been reading my story, all I have to go on are reviews, so if you're reading thing and haven't been reviewing: stop being insensitive warts and REVIEW!!!! Thank you for your time, I'll just get on with it, shall I?

**Larthawyn****: **I'm so pleased that you read the A/N! Hugs for you! Draco knew where to find Hermione (or he thought he did) because in Chapter 7 he had a dream/memory where he remembered hearing his father and Nott talking about it. As for where Hermione is: you might figure it out in this chapter, but you also might not. I haven't seen Ice Age in … ages. Probably a year. Gotta love Sid. Erklings came from _Fantastic Beasts_, just in case you were wondering. All in all, Larthawyn, I loved your review. Please keep writing them to me!

**Male-chan: **You might be able to guess where Hermione is in this chapter. But if you don't – you'll have to wait. Lol, I thought the last sentence of that phrase made him seem cute to me! But I'm a sucker for anything Draco!

**eos**** elloeous: **I hope this wasn't too long?

**Nella**** Radcliffe: **You'll have to wait to find out where Hermione is just like everyone else, I'm afraid! Actually, I did meet Kellie Lott. Wow, is this a small world?!?! I hope I become an author one day too, thanks for the compliment! I had great fun on my holiday! Thanks for your review, and please keep doing it!

**Chapter 8: The Lions' Departure**

Harry, Ron and Ginny were sitting together at the Gryffindor table again, not talking, their heads bowed. Around them, people were whispering about both Hermione's and Draco's disappearances. Everyone had a different theory of why, and all were pretty absurd. But most people knew – or, at least, thought – that Draco was behind Hermione's.

As a group of Hufflepuff fourth-year girls passed by their table, they heard one say: "Ardna Eppel says they've eloped!' The other girls giggled.

'Imagine!' squealed another one. 'A Gryffindor and Slytherin eloping! And such "enemies" as those two supposedly were!'

Ron stood up. The fourth-year girls stopped walking and stared at him, the colour draining from their faces. They realised who he was.

'Of course,' added the first girl, her voice quivering, 'Ardna Eppel has said a lot of things, none of which have been true.'

Ron turned to look at her. He towered above the poor girl, and he was glaring at her. The girls bunched together, looking terrified.

'What kind of idiots are you lot?' he said softly, shaking with rage. Harry and Ginny ignored the scene, staring at their plates. 'Hermione and Malfoy _do _hate each other: he kidnapped her! You tell this – this _Ardna__ Eppel _from me that she better keep her mouth shut. I don't want to hear a single other dung-brain theory from you _or _that Eppel girl, OK?'

The girls nodded. Ron nodded his head, once, then sat back down, breathing hard. Ginny put her hand on his arm.

'Ignore them,' she said, though she looked calmly furious. 'They're just fourth-years: what do they know?'

Ron looked up sharply.

'I knew what they were saying wasn't true!' he said loudly. 'I know that he took her against her own free will!'

Ginny looked taken aback.

'I didn't mean that,' she spluttered. 'I just meant … oh, never mind.'

The three sat in silence. Then they looked up as Neville sat down next to Ron.

'Hi Neville,' said Harry glumly.

'Hi.' Neville replied, but he was looking up at the High Table. 'Where's Dumbledore?'

'Huh?' said Harry. Then he remembered. 'Oh! Dumbledore's gone to London to confer with the Aurors.'

'Aurors?' repeated Neville, looking alarmed. 'Why?'

'Well, the Ministry don't like Hermione's disappearance, either,' said Ginny, as neither boy looked up to explaining. 'And Malfoy leaving made them even more nervous. They're convinced he _did _kidnap her and they're figuring out how best to go about getting them.' She paused at the look on Neville's face. 'The three of us are present at every meeting the Aurors have with Dumbledore; he lets us. We know that Hermione has an anti-tracing charm on her.'

'What about Malfoy?'

'He's moving too quickly,' said Harry, sighing. 'He's on his broomstick; they're having trouble tracking him.'

'They'll get him, though,' said Neville, nodding his head energetically. The other three nodded, but without much conviction. 'Where would he be going, anyway?'

Ron shrugged.

'To Hermione, I suppose. But still …'

'What?'

'Well, he's travelling an awfully long way to get there. But, I suppose he wouldn't hide her less than a day's ride away, would he? Even Malfoy's not that stupid.'

'Isn't it odd, though?' said Neville, looking from one to the other.

'What's odd?' said Ginny, looking up. They were all watching him intently now.

'Well, she disappeared on Wednesday, and yet he was here Wednesday night, when you took him up to Dumbledore's office?'

'Yes,' said Harry slowly.

'If he's flying a day away (at least), then how could he have kidnapped her and come back here in the same afternoon?'

Harry, Ron and Ginny looked at each other.

'Easy.' Ron said finally, looking back at Neville. 'Someone else _actually _did the kidnapping for him. He took her to Hogsmeade, or the edge of the grounds or something, then handed her over to someone else.'

Harry and Ginny turned to Neville, satisfied expressions on their faces. Neville shrugged.

'It's possible.'

'It's _probable_,' corrected Ron. Then he sighed. 'I wish she was still here. Why did we let her go off on her own?'

'I don't know.' Harry sighed too. He felt so miserable; one of his best friends was missing, kidnapped by a Death Eater's son. How _could _they have let Hermione go off on her own? Well, they'd always thought the castle safe, how were they to know?

'How could we have let her go off on her own?' Ron wailed again, dropping his head onto his arms.

'Oh!' said Lavender Brown from the other side of Ginny. She'd just finished talking to a Ravenclaw boy, and was now listening to Ron's wailing. 'She wasn't going off on her own. Well, not really.'

Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville and even Seamus and Dean turned to look at Lavender.

'What?' said Harry and Ron simultaneously.

'She's right,' said Parvati from Lavender's other side. She was writing a letter and didn't look up. 'She was going down to the kitchens. Something to do with house-elves.'

They all stared at them.

'Did you tell Dumbledore?' said Seamus, unbelievably.

'Of course,' said Lavender, rolling her eyes. 'We're not _stupid, _Seamus. He didn't seem to feel it was important.' She shrugged.

'Did she say what she was going down there for?' said Harry quickly.

Parvati looked up now, and shrugged.

'Something to do with her S.P.E.W., I think. Well, it must've been, she's not exactly into stealing food, is she? Why?' she added, seeing the looks on their faces. 'Do you think it's important?'

'Probably not,' Ron admitted. 'But at least we can ask the house-elves; they were probably the last people to see her.'

There was a pause.

'Let's go,' said Ginny, and her, Harry and Ron leapt to their feet and rushed out of the hall, calling their thanks over their shoulders.

They had just gotten out into the entrance hall when they ran into someone, quite literally. Ginny fell backwards, but Harry caught her before she hit the floor.

'Sorry,' he said, putting Ginny back on her feet.

'My fault,' said a gruff voice. They looked at the man they'd bumped in to. Short and quite round, the man was rarely seen about the castle, preferring to stay in his quarters off the kitchens. Harry had only met him once before. His name was Nyan, and he was the House-elf Manager of Hogwarts: he organised the house-elves and made sure they were healthy. Right now he was looking them up and down. His eyes came to rest on Harry's scar.

'Harry Potter.' It wasn't a question. 'Ah, yes. One of the house-elves talks about you a lot. An elf named Dobby. You know him?'

'Yes,' replied Harry. 'Quite well.'

Nyan nodded. 'Thought so. You were the one that set him free from the Malfoy's.'

Harry nodded.

'You did that elf a huge favour, Potter.' Nyan looked at Harry appraisingly. 'You're a good man.'

Harry nodded again, not sure how to respond to that.

'Thanks,' he said uneasily.

'No problem.' His eyes instead went to Ginny. 'You alright?' he asked her. 'Sorry 'bout knocking you down like that.'

'It's OK,' said Ginny, who was a little scared of this man. She moved to the right slowly, so she was half-standing behind Ron.

'House-elves are odd.' Nyan shook his head. 'Especially here. They can do things and stay secretive about them if the want: they don't even have to punish themselves.'

'Really?' said Harry, intrigued. He liked that idea, and he knew Hermione would when she heard about it. 'Like what?'

'Well, earlier this year, Dobby – your friend – disappeared for a week, but the other house-elves covered for him, doing all his jobs, you know. When he got back, I tried to get him to tell me where he'd gone, but he wouldn't say. Then, a few days ago, he left again. He's back now, though, back to work. Odd. Other house-elves have been acting oddly, too. It's all very mysterious. It feels like a conspiracy …'

It was then that Ginny decided she didn't like this strange man.

'Right, well, we should be moving on,' she said, her voice higher than usual. She tugged on Ron's sleeve gently. But Harry, for one, didn't want to go anywhere.

'Really?' he said thoughtfully. 'I wonder what they're all so secretive about…'

'Why don't we go and ask them?' Ron said to Harry.

Harry nodded. 'Good idea.'

'Yes,' agreed Ginny hurriedly. 'Goodbye – er – sir.'

'Thanks, Nyan,' said Harry, as the three walked past him and down towards the kitchen corridors.

Nyan just waved over his shoulder as he went into the Great Hall.

'That man was creepy,' said Ginny as they walked down the Fruit Corridor.

'He is a bit,' Harry agreed, coming to an abrupt stop. 'Here we are.'

Ron stretched out his forefinger and tickled the green pear. It giggled and turned into a door handle. Ron seized it and pushed it open. Harry and Ginny followed him inside.

Most of the house-elves ignored them, but Winky trotted up to them, her blouse and skirt impeccably clean, a huge smile on her face.

'Hello Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and … Miss,' she added, because she didn't know Ginny's name.

'This is Ginny, my sister,' said Ron. 'You're much happier now, Winky!'

Winky nodded energetically, her large ears flapping.

'Professor Dumbledore talked to Winky before, sirs and miss, and now Winky is a much happier house-elf!' She squeaked happily, beaming at them.

'Hermione would love to hear that,' said Ron quietly.

There was silence for a moment, before Winky broke it, saying: 'Would sirs and miss like to see Dobby now?'

'Yes, please, Winky,' said Harry, and the little elf led them between the house tables. Various elves waved and bowed as they passed. They all returned the greetings by waving. Suddenly, they stopped.

'Here we are, Harry Potter.' Winky motioned to an open cupboard. 'Dobby!' she called.

A small figure jumped from a high shelf in the cupboard, then rushed at Harry.

'Harry Potter!' Dobby squealed, throwing his arms around Harry's waist.

'Hello, Dobby!' said Harry, who was also pleased to see the elf. Dobby pulled away and beamed up at Harry, then looked at Ron.

'Mister Weezy!' he said, bowing low: he'd never gotten over Ron's "generosity" in the shape of a maroon jumper. When he straightened up, he looked at Ginny blankly. 'Hello Miss!' He looked pleased to see her, even though they'd never met.

'This is Ginny, Dobby,' said Harry, 'she's Ron's sister.'

Dobby bowed again.

'Dobby has had the pleasure now of meeting _four _Weezys! Masters Fredgeorge, Ron, and now Miss Ginny!'

Ginny blushed. She decided she liked Dobby.

'Dobby,' said Harry, steering the conversation back on track. 'Have you noticed who we're missing?'

Dobby looked up at Harry. He grabbed the tips of his ears and looked between the three of them.

'Miss Hermy?' he said tentatively.

Harry and Ron blinked.

'When did you start calling her "Hermy"?' Ron asked blankly.

'Dobby heard it from Hermy herself…' he mumbled. 'She said if Dobby had too much trouble saying her full name, I could calls her Hermy.' He looked at the ground.

'That's – that's fine,' Harry said, glancing at Ron. 'Anyway, Dobby, a girl – one of our classmates – said that on Wednesday, Hermione said she was coming down here. Did she?'

Dobby glanced at Winky, and then nodded. Harry sighed.

'Well? Why did she come, for how long, and when did she leave?'

But Dobby just shuffled his feet and pulled harder on his ears. Ron glanced at Harry, then looked at Winky.

'Winky,' he said kindly, 'what happened to Hermione?'

'Winky cannot say!' she squealed. 'Winky – Winky does not know!'

Ginny squatted in front of Dobby as Harry threw his hands up in exasperation.

'Dobby,' she put on a sweet voice. Dobby raised his eyes to meet hers. 'What happened to Hermione?'

Dobby looked between Harry, Ron and Ginny, then at Winky, who gave him a nod of encouragement. He looked back up at the three Gryffindors and sighed …

'I can't believe he didn't tell anyone sooner!' Harry fumed, twenty minutes later, as they walked quickly down the Fat Lady's corridor.

'Me neither,' said Ron, shaking his head, fury lining his face, too. He was clutching a large bag of food and flasks of pumpkin juice.

Ginny just jogged along silently behind them. They finally reached the Fat Lady.

'What are you all so angry about?' she asked, looking down at them.

'_Cherry numbat_,' said Ron flatly. The Fat Lady swung forward to admit them, clucking her tongue.

'What are we going to do?' Ginny asked the boys.

'Dumbledore's not here,' said Harry, thinking quickly. 'Malfoy would have known about it, remember what he said on Wednesday?' He looked at the other two. 'We should go after him.'

'What?' Ginny said incredulously, but Ron nodded.

'Yeah,' he said slowly. 'If he knew about both plans … they must have told him …'

Harry nodded. Ginny, however, let a frustrated cry.

'Are we planning on _going_?' she said loudly.

Harry and Ron looked at each other.

'Yes,' they said at the same time.

'Now we know where she is, and where _he's_ going, we might be able to get to her first!' Ron explained. 'If Malfoy gets to her first …' He trailed off and shuddered. Ginny sighed. She understood how he felt, she really did.

Harry recognised her resignation.

'Right,' he said briskly, clapping his hands together and grinning tightly. 'Be back here in five minutes; bring your broomsticks. We'll leave from the Astronomy Tower just after that.'

He and Ron turned and ran up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, while Ginny sprinted up the girls'.

Harry threw open his trunk, grabbed his bag out, stuffed in a jumper, a cloak, his back of gold, a change of clothes. He snatched up his Firebolt and turned to face Ron, who was clutching his Cleensweep. Ron glanced towards Seamus' trunk, where they knew his Nimbus 2001 was stored.

'Do you think he'll mind?' he asked Harry.

'He'll understand. Write him a quick note.' Harry slung his bag over his shoulder. 'I'll see in the common room. Me and Ginny'll start dividing up this food.' He grabbed the sack and left Ron scribbling a note to Seamus, explaining that his Nimbus would be fine and he, Ron, would bring it back soon. He left his Cleensweep on Seamus' bed and hurried into the common room, where he met Harry and Ginny. Harry handed him some bread rolls, some plastic containers of spread, a flask of pumpkin juice and some fruit. Ron wrinkled his nose.

'Why is it all healthy stuff?' he said.

'It's not,' said Harry, stuffing his own food into his bag. 'Ginny has the sweets.'

Ron raised his eyebrows.

'Why has _she _got them?' he asked, watching Harry, but his head snapped around when Ginny answered.

'Because _I'm_ less likely to eat them.' She pulled the drawstring on her bag and straightened up, grinning. Ron rolled his eyes, and turned back to Harry.

'You know, just because she's skinny doesn't mean she doesn't eat sweets,' he pointed out. Harry laughed.

'No offence, Ron,' he said, grinning, 'but you like sweets much more than Ginny.' He motioned to her. 'They're safer with her. There's not many of them, anyway. Most of the food's healthy because I don't know how much Hermione has been fed: she could be starving: we'll probably need to feed her, and I don't think it's a good idea to stuff her full of junk.'

Ron shrugged, but he knew Harry was right. He didn't want to say anything about it, but he was incredibly nervous; what if Malfoy _did _get there before them? He shook his mind from the worry and looked back at Ginny. He told her about borrowing Seamus' broom and she held up her own Cleensweep, looking dismayed.

'I'll never be able to keep up with you,' she said sadly. Harry and Ron exchanged a look. How would they work around the brooms' differences?

'Colin!' said Ron suddenly, snapping his fingers.

'What?' said Ginny, bewildered.

'Colin.' Ron repeated patiently. 'I know he's not on the team, but he's a reserve, so he has a broomstick here! It's a Nimbus 2000, so it'll do fine. He likes you, Gin, and we all know he adores Harry –' (Harry snorted) '- so he won't mind!' He turned to Harry. 'Harry, go into his dormitory, write a quick note and take it. Come on!'

Harry sighed and disappeared back up the stairs. Ron bounced up and down while waiting for Harry, but Ginny stood, looking out the window. Finally, Harry came running back down, holding Colin's broomstick in his hand.

'I feel bad,' he announced.

'Not half as bad as you'd feel if Malfoy gets to Hermione before us. Come on.'

They grabbed their stuff and ran out of the common room. They didn't stop running until they reached the top of the Astronomy Tower, which meant they were all severely out of breath.

'Do you think we should have told McGonagall?' panted Ginny, leaning against a parapet. Ron shook his head.

'You know what teachers are like,' he said bitterly, his hand on his side, gasping for breath. 'She'd probably think we were lying and ignore us, just like with the Philosopher's stone.'

Harry climbed up onto the parapet.

'Come on, you two,' he said, breathing deeply, trying to get his breath back. 'We can catch our breath while we're flying.'

Ron and Ginny climbed up on either side of him, Ron still holding the stitch in his side. Harry went first, swinging one leg over his broom, then pushing off from the stone. Ron and Ginny followed his lead. They hovered in the air above Hogwarts, looking in the direction they needed to go.

'If we fly quickly,' said Harry, 'we should be able to get to a town tonight.'

Ron nodded.

'Let's go.'


	10. Hermione's Voice

**A/N: **Hi everyone! Well, this chapter is the shortest I've ever written. Also, if you notice, this chappie is in present tense and first person. It will, however, be the only one. Back to past tense and third person next chapter and beyond! Enjoy this chapter, and REVIEW!!!

**Juji**Thank you! I agree!

**Zuvalupa**Bows Thank you!

**Snike**Oh, I will be continuing – this will be the first (long) story I've ever finished! And it will get there, I promise!

**Scholcomp25: **Well, this update isn't _soon_, but it is here!

**Larthawyn**I hope it's not driving you too insane! It'll be no good if you can't finish reading the story because you're brain's scrambled! Oh yeah: poor Ron's lost it! I like Nyan. I like the name! I wonder if there _is_? It would be cool, but probably not. Well, would _you _wait to ask permission before going to rescue your best friend? No, I thought not. Did you think she'd have more of a reaction? Wiggles eyebrows I like your reviews: please keep writing them!

**Poisionberry2k6: **Thank you very much! The chapters will most certainly be coming!

**Chapter 9: Hermione's Voice**

I know why they have me here: they explained it several times; I can't help but understand it. But I don't have to like it, and I'm determined not to. Poor Harry and Ron; I can only imagine how they must be feeling.

I can't believe they tricked me into this. I'm supposed to be smart, and I still fell for it: I really believed it. I'm furious with myself, and with them.

At least they didn't lock me up in a small room: I can walk around freely, as long as I don't leave the building. Like I could: they've put spells around the perimeter, it'd be impossible.

It's cold in this room. I don't have my cloak anymore; I lost it. I think I'll move to the fire.

Oh, this hallway is dark. Maybe they should put some lights on. Ha. Like they need it. If only I had my wand, but they're not stupid: they took that away, too. In fact, they took everything away that I had, except my clothes. And they're not great without robes. I'm dressed plainly in the Hogwarts uniform that we have to wear under our cloaks. Not overly warm.

I sit in the chair that I have claimed silently as mine, and I watch them moving around, just outside the firelight. I can't believe they have me. I just want to be back at Hogwarts, arguing with Ron, helping him and Harry with their homework, nagging them about homework being more important than Quidditch … I suppose that's something they won't be missing.

This fire's making me drowsy. I'm trying to watch the moving figures, but I know I'll be okay if I fall asleep … I curl up in my armchair and wipe my cheek … the light seems to dim, as though the fire has been put out, but I can still feel its warmth on my skin … I feel someone putting a blanket over my body, then the peacefulness of sleep washes over me.

**Next Chapter: **Headaches (), travelling, a discovery, house-elves, Death Eaters and a run-in with Muggle police! All this and a little bit more in the next chapter of The Missing Gryffindor!!!


	11. Cloaked Minds and Hidden Elves

**A/N: **Sorry this took so long, guys, I had absolutely NO inspiration. And because I've planned the story so thoroughly, it feels like I've already written it, and that makes it hard to sit down and type it all out. Once I get going, though, it's really fun, so never mind me! :-) Not as much action happens in this chapter, it's mainly Draco finding out stuff, though I did have to put a chase scene in there … blush I just can't help myself.

**Zuvalupa**Thanks, I know, it was short, wasn't it? :-) All in the game, my dear Zuvalupa! (How do you people come up with your usernames?? :-S)

**Larthawyn: **Yay, you reviewed! :-) Don't mind me, but I love your reviews, I really do. Mustn't you be out of confetti by now? :-S ;-) It's always easy to be the logical outsider, except for me. :-) I'm always illogical. You shall find out the blanket-putter-overer, but not yet. ;-)

**Juji**How am I supposed to respond to that? Don't tell you? Thanks for your review, Juji! :-)

**No one remembered: **The conspiracy has thickened admirably. :-)

**Karana**** Belle: **Thank you, I'm really glad you like it! :-) This isn't soon, but my A/N explains it. But no one except Larthawyn reads my A/Ns, so … :-) I hope your St Mungos treatment is going well! ;-)

**A/N EXTENDED: **Look! 5 reviews! Come on, people, where is your spirit?! You may not think it, but reviews are really important to us writers! It spurs us on to greater heights and plots! :-( Please, if anyone is reading my story and NOT reviewing … shame on you!

**Chapter 10: Cloaked Minds and Hidden Elves**

As consciousness slowly returned to him, so did his headache.

Moaning, Draco turned onto his back and put a hand up to his pounding head. He laid the hand over his forehead and waited fruitlessly for the pain to abate.

Then he opened his eyes. And moaned again. The bright daylight scorched his eyes and almost forced them closed again. Working up his strength, Draco kept them open and found himself staring at a cream plastered ceiling.

'What –' he started, then stopped. Talking hurt his head and besides, talking to yourself was a sign of madness, and Draco didn't want to go crazy.

Instead, he sat up and took in his surroundings. The room was painted cream with a cold wood floor and only a few furnishings: a dresser with mirror; chair; a bedside table; and, of course, the bed he was lying on. Everything was made out of wood, which had the mixed effect of making the room cold, yet welcoming.

_Where am I? _Draco found himself thinking. He didn't remember this room – had the Death Eaters found him? Had they locked him up somewhere for his impending doom? Was he a prisoner in this room of cold wood?

_No, _answered a small and sensible voice. _This bed is comfortable; would Death Eaters make you comfortable? No, they wouldn't. Where was the last place you remember being?_

Draco thought hard about this. Where _was _the last place he remembered? Closing his eyes, Draco tried to ignore the throbbing pain and concentrate.

The memory of the smell of smoke and warmth filtered into his mind, closely followed by the images of many laughing men. Then the last piece of the puzzle crawled in, taking its agonizing time.

'The bar?' Draco mused aloud as the memory of his Firewhisky bore down on him.

Just then, the door to his room burst open and a large man filled the doorway.

'William! Yeh're awake!'

Taken by surprise, Draco tried to leap from the bed, to get away from the man, but he became tangled in the bedclothes and landed painfully on the floor. He groaned and the man strode towards him.

'Whatchya do that for, William?' said the man sympathetically. 'It's just me. I think yeh've had one too many bumps on the head.'

The man knelt down besides Draco and he recognised him as Alfredo Mortimor.

'Mortimor,' he grunted, trying to sit up. His elbows hurt and his head felt as though it was about to explode.

'Ah!' Mortimor beamed. 'Knew yeh'd come round! How yeh feelin' then?'

'Like absolute crap,' Draco replied angrily. 'My head hurts, so does my body, I'm tired as hell, and I thought I'd been taken by those bloody Death Eaters!' He stopped, aghast. Had he just said what he thought he'd said? Judging by the look of surprise on Mortimor's face, he had.

'Death Eaters?' the older man asked faintly.

Draco forced an uneasy laugh.

'Yeah, right. Man, you're weird, Mortimor. Why in Merlin's name would Death Eaters be after _me_? I mean, come on! Do I look like someone who Death Eaters would want to pick on? What would their reason be? I mean –' Draco suddenly realised he was babbling and stopped abruptly. He looked around for a change of subject before Mortimor got back his speaking abilities. He caught sight of the Mortimor's watch. 'Merlin, is that the time?' he said, forcing another laugh. 'I have to be off. Things to do, people to see, you know.'

He leapt to his feet, quickly untangling himself. Mortimor looked up as Draco stood and his mouth worked furiously, trying to form words. Draco pretended not to notice as he buttoned up his shirt and strode to the chair and grabbed his bag from it.

'Nice meeting you, Mortimor,' he said without looking back, but as he put his hand on the door handle, Mortimor spoke.

'William,' he said. 'Yeh don't have to leave. If Death Eaters are after yeh, Cormag and I can protect yeh. Yeh can stay here. In safety. Please, we can see what they did to yeh, William. Don't try and fool me.'

Draco turned around. Mortimor was on his feet, looking pleadingly at him. He felt a kind of twinge in his stomach. He would have loved to stay with Mortimor and Cormag, away from accusing eyes at Hogwarts and beatings from Death Eaters.

As soon as he thought those things, Draco felt sickened. He didn't want to stay with the bar-folk. Even if he wasn't on a mission or being hunted – a bar was no place for a man of his breeding!

'This isn't about me, Mortimor,' he said, trying to sound selfless. 'This is about a kidnapped girl and her life. This is about some people who can't live without her, and some who can't live _with_ her. This isn't about me, Mortimor. This is about Hermione.'

As he turned away, Draco smirked. He couldn't help feeling proud of himself; that was the best damn speech of his life. It was also the biggest damn lie of his life. He didn't really care what happened to Hermione after he got her back to Hogwarts, because then he'd be in the clear. Until then, though, it was his responsibility to keep her alive. And it was a little hard to do from half-way across the country.

'Wow,' said Mortimor, dragging Draco back to the dirty room and out of his mind's heroics. Draco turned back to Mortimor, who looked impressed. Then the older man smirked. 'And which one are _you_, dear William?'

'What?' said Draco, confused.

'Are yeh one of those who can't live _without _her, or one who can't live _with _her?'

'I can't live _with _her, of course!' Draco snapped. 'I don't like her, but I have to save her anyway.'

'Sounds like a bit of a dud deal, if yeh ask me.'

Draco snorted. 'You have no idea.'

'Yeh have to go then?'

'Yep.'

'Come with me, I'll get yeh some breakfast.' Draco hesitated and Mortimor sighed and rolled his eyes. 'Yeh can't go off with a hangover _and _an empty stomach. Not if yeh're off to rescue a beautiful damsel.'

'She's not beautiful!' Draco said furiously, even angrier that Mortimor was smirking at him. 'She looks like a chipmunk! I'm only rescuing her because her friends are too lazy!'

'OK!' Mortimor held his hands up in mock-defeat. 'You win, Will. Now will yeh come down for breakfast?'

Draco was about to protest when he stomach beat him to it. The rumbling made Mortimor grin, and Draco followed his example.

'Maybe I _will _have some breakfast,' he said sheepishly. Mortimor's grin widened and he strode past Draco and out the door. Draco scooped up his bag and followed Mortimor along a narrow corridor and down a small flight of stairs, finally emerging into the bar.

Cormag, the barman, was standing behind the counter, reading the _Daily Prophet_. He looked up when Draco and Mortimor entered.

'Greetings, Master Myles … Alfredo,' he said, straightening up and laying his paper on the bar. 'Have a good sleep, Mr Myles?'

'Not really,' said Draco, thinking how strange it was to be called something different. 'I mean, I didn't wake up during the night, but it hurt when I did this morning.'

Cormag laughed and Draco winced.

'Sorry,' he said apologetically, and he filled a glass with some thick brown liquid. 'Drink this,' he ordered, placing it in front of Draco. 'It'll deal with your hangover.'

Draco looked at it sceptically.

'Are you sure?' he said, eyeing the goo.

'Master Myles,' said Cormag sternly. 'I am a barman. Do you not trust my remedies?'

Draco met Cormag's stern gaze.

'I know you have a sense of humour,' he replied coolly. Cormag grinned.

'That I do, lad,' he said warmly, pushing the glass towards Draco. 'But I do not joke about my remedies. That would be unprofessional.'

'Right,' said Draco, reaching for the glass. He was fed up with the dull pounding in the back of his skull. He was almost as fed up with being around people. He wanted to get going, but couldn't do that when he was being hounded by them.

He drained the glass in two gulps. To his pleasant surprise, it tasted like roast potatoes.

'It's a secret!' Cormag laughed when Draco questioned it.

'Here,' Mortimor said, re-emerging from the kitchen behind the bar. He was carrying a plate of bacon and eggs. Draco had never felt less like bacon and eggs, but he took the plate anyway, thanked Mortimor and concentrated on finishing his breakfast as quickly as possible.

Mortimor settled down to his own breakfast while Cormag picked up the paper and kept reading while talking to Mortimor.

'He's always made a real blunder of things, remember last year?' Cormag was saying, his eyes on the paper. 'You-Know-Who had come back and Fudge blatantly –'

Suddenly, Cormag stopped talking and glanced up at Draco then back down at the paper. Draco paused in his eating to watch Cormag intently. What had made him stop talking like that? Then Cormag cleared his throat. Mortimor looked up and Cormag nodded with his head ever-so-slightly to the page he'd just turned over. Draco might not have noticed the head movement, but he was a Seeker, and little things like that didn't go unnoticed.

Draco kept his eyes on them both as Cormag moved aside and Mortimor took his place, looking at the paper curiously. Then his eyes widened and he looked up at Draco then back down at the paper, just as Cormag had done.

Draco's heart started pounding painfully hard. What was going on? What was in that paper?

Mortimor straightened up, cleared his throat, and pushed the _Daily Prophet _toward Draco, who snatched it immediately and gazed down at it, searching … _there!_

A picture of his head and shoulders sat below a heading that read:

_DANGEROUS, POSSIBLY UNSTABLE AND ON THE LOOSE_

'What?' Draco read the heading three times, then lowered his gaze below the picture, to the article.

_Draco Malfoy, currently in his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, left school two days ago after being charged with the kidnap of Muggle-born witch Hermione Granger._

_Miss Granger, also a sixth year, disappeared on Wednesday night, after a violent fight with Mr Malfoy, which left her fighting for her own life. It was later that night when her best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, realised she had disappeared._

_Mr Malfoy was taken to the Albus Dumbledore's office, where the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was immediately called._

_After assessing the situation, Mr Fudge declared a Three-Day Search to be held at the school. The students all took part in the Search, which proved fruitless. Mr Malfoy was heard during this time laughing to his friends that "the Mudblood won't be found"._

_On the third day of the Search, Mr Malfoy attacked some third-year Hufflepuffs and was charged with kidnap and possible assault to Hermione Granger, as well as additional charges to the Hufflepuffs, who shall remain nameless._

_That afternoon, Mr Malfoy fled the school, presumably on his Nimbus 2001._

_'This is one dangerous teenager,' said fourth-year student Ardna Eppel. 'He once attacked Harry Potter on the Quidditch field and almost won! And we all know _that _is no easy feat!'_

_Citizens are to be warned that Mr Malfoy is armed with his wand and is very capable of casting Dark Magic. He's dangerous and possibly unhinged, so on no account is he to be approached. If you happen to spot Mr Malfoy, please contact the Ministry of Magic via Floo Powder or Apparation._

Draco sat back in his chair and put the paper down. He felt numb. So many things in that article were wrong. The main "facts" were there, and it wasn't a large piece, but it was still damaging. He looked up at Cormag and Mortimor. They both recognised him now; he could see it in their eyes.

He cleared his throat and pointed at the first paragraph of the article.

'I was never charged,' he said weakly, trying to make his voice sound stable. 'And she was not fighting for her life – she set my robes on fire. I think I was in more danger than her.'

Now he was getting angry. Now that this stupid article had come out, it would be much harder for him to stay low-key and unrecognised.

'Fudge came later. I did not laugh to my friends. I only defended myself against those vicious Hufflepuffs … and that thing about attacking Potter – that's laughable. Really. _I _was the one who was brutally attacked. It's flattering that they're making me out to be some delirious, unhinged kidnapper.'

He looked up.

'I didn't take her,' he said quietly. Mortimor and Cormag glanced at each other. Mortimor laid a huge hand on Draco's shoulder.

'We know, lad. We don't reckon yeh did it. Not enough muscle in yeh, boy!' Mortimor laughed, squeezing Draco's upper arm.

'I have more muscle than people think!' he snapped, pulling his arm away. Mortimor smiled wryly.

'Course yeh do. But,' he glanced at Cormag, 'we need to get yeh out of here. It ain't safe for a hunted boy like yehself.'

'Thanks,' Draco said, standing up and handing the _Daily Prophet _back to Cormag. 'I need to go anyway. It's the Death Eaters who really want her, and I have to get her back to Hogwarts as soon as possible. Hey!' he said suddenly, thinking about the previous night. 'That man, the one who saw the Muggle-born girl with the house-elves? Where is he?'

'Just there,' said Cormag, nodding behind Draco, who turned around.

Oscar was slumped at a table, an empty flagon by his hand.

Draco strode over to his and shook him by the arm. Oscar raised his head and looked blearily at Draco.

'Waddaya want?' he muttered. Cormag bustled past Draco holding another glass with the liquid in.

'Drink this,' he murmured, handing it to Oscar. He took it gingerly, and then downed it in a single gulp.

He blinked a few times and focused his eyes upon Draco. 'What?' he said again.

When Draco explained what he wanted, Mortimor gave Oscar a pen and paper, and Oscar drew a rough map, marking a few X's on it.

'Here's where I saw her,' he said, pointing to the first one. 'These few are hotels and shops. Just in case.'

'Thanks, Oscar,' Draco said, rolling up the map and shoving it into his pack. As his wrist bent backwards, he let out a cry of pain.

'What?' said Mortimor, worried.

'My bloody wrist,' Draco explained, wincing. 'I sprained it last night.'

'Come here,' said Cormag, withdrawing back behind his bar.

'I can't!' said Draco forcefully. 'I have to go!'

Cormag jogged back to them, carrying a bandage.

'This won't take a minute.'

He was right: with a wave of his wand, the bandages wrapped themselves tightly around Draco's right wrist, stopping most of the pain, yet leaving room for mobility.

'Thanks Cormag,' he said. 'And you guys too,' he added to Mortimor and Oscar.

Mortimor saluted him jokingly, and Draco hoisted his pack higher onto his back, turned around and almost ran out of the bar, into the cold morning light. He didn't think he'd said "thank you" so many times in one day before.

Since he no longer had his Nimbus, Draco had to walk as much as possible. He caught a couple of lifts with Muggles, but the bruises on his face and arms attracted attention, so he stopped doing that.

At lunch time, he stopped beneath a tree to rest his aching feet and legs. Sitting down, he pulled an apple and a loaf of bread from his pack and ate it quickly.

He was beside a road that led all the way to Waven, the town he was heading to. He really only had an hour or two of walking to do, for which he was thankful. His legs were burning and aching; he'd never walked this much, and it was taking its toll. Draco decided to exercise much more once he'd sorted this whole mess out.

At first, he'd got a bit of a shock when he'd seen a car, but he _had _seen them before, when he went to London, so he wasn't completelyunaccustomed to them. It was the bus that had scared the wits out of him. It was huge, and noisier than any magical beast he'd come across, except perhaps the dragon. He'd managed to keep his cool, but it didn't mean he was going to go anywhere near them.

Standing up again, Draco chucked the apple core away and picked up his pack. Sighing, he continued his aching journey along the dirt road.

When he finally got to Waven, it was nearing three o'clock. He desperately wanted to rest, but kept walking, following the map Oscar had drawn him. The back of his neck was burning almost as much as his legs, and his cheeks were hot, which made him feel he was sunburnt.

'This is great,' he muttered darkly as he trudged along Opal Avenue. 'A Malfoy got sunburnt. I'll never hear the end of it.'

Turning onto Carson Street, which wasn't the main street, but almost as busy, he heard some people arguing.

He raised his head and saw a girl and a boy holding something between them and arguing loudly.

'I found it!' said the girl angrily, giving the thing a tug.

'Did not!' protested the boy, glaring at the girl. Both had brown hair and dark skin, so Draco assumed they were brother and sister.

'Mum!' shouted the girl, but nobody replied.

'She's gone off again,' said the boy viciously. 'So you'll just have to give it up!'

Draco squinted to make out what they were holding. It appeared to a large piece of black material. Why did they want _that _so badly? Then the girl tugged it again and a hood slipped out from the boy's fingers, as well as some more of the cloak.

Draco gasped as he saw the bright Gryffindor crest on the black material. _Hermione's cloak!_

With his purpose renewed, he broke into a fast walk. Within a couple of seconds he'd reached the arguing siblings.

His shadow fell across them and they looked up, the boy stepping partly in front of his sister to shield her from this dirty teenager who was covered in scratches and bruises.

'What have you got there?' Draco asked the girl.

'No – nothing,' she stuttered, her wide eyes taking in Draco's ragged appearance.

Restraining himself from speaking harshly, he said, 'Is it a cloak?'

'What do you care?' asked the boy shrilly. Nearby, a man turned around to see what the commotion was.

'Hold it up,' Draco said to the little girl. Then, 'Please?'

Seemingly taken aback by his politeness, the girl unfolded the cloak and held it up. It was definitely a Hogwarts cloak: black with silver fastenings and a Gryffindor crest. It was about the right size for Hermione.

Draco stepped forward. His breathing had quickened as he stared at the cloak. _What was Hermione's cloak doing with these kids?_

'Can I have that?' he said quietly. Neither child answered. 'It belongs to a friend of mine,' he said, surprised at himself. Couldn't he have just said that it belonged to someone he knew? Mentally shaking his head, Draco focused on the siblings as they looked at one another.

'All right,' said the boy, taking the cloak from his sister. 'If you promise to leave us alone.'

'I promise,' said Draco quickly. 'But can I ask you one question first?'

The boy nodded, holding tight to the cloak.

'Where did you find it?'

'Over there,' the girl pointed toward a park at the end of the street. 'On the bench next to that clump of bushes, see?'

'Yes,' Draco said, taking the cloak from the boy's outstretched hand. His mind was calm and focused, but his hands were shaking. 'Was there a girl there?'

'No,' said the boy, and he started backing up. 'No one was there. Just that.'

'Thank you.' Draco had barely gotten the words out and the kids were running down the street, presumably to find their mother. He shook his head. After he'd finished this blasted mission, Draco decided, he would never say "thank you" to anyone, ever again.

Tucking the cloak under his arm, he set off at a quick pace toward the park. It was large with huge trees and small clumps of bushes.

A colourful metal playground took up a lot of space, and it was filled with kids. There were two sets of swings, and these were also occupied. A handful of picnic tables made up the rest of the park, apart from a few single benches that were scattered around.

It was to one of these single benches that Draco made his way. It sat beside a large clump of prickly-looking bushes, just as the girl had said.

Thankful for the seat, Draco flopped onto it, looking around. His feet welcomed the rest, but his brain was furious. _Here I am, sitting in a green park, resting, while the Ministry's after me and Hermione's God-knows-where. This is so generous and smart of you, Draco, it really is._

'Well,' he concluded, shielding his eyes against the sun. 'Granger is definitely not _here_.' He sighed. How long was he going to have to chase her? Why couldn't she have just stayed at Hogwarts and let the Death Eaters take her later? It wouldn't do _her _any good, but at least he wouldn't be a suspect.

_And that's the only reason you're doing this, isn't it? _said that irritating voice.

'What?' he said quietly, so no one would hear him. Now he knew he was mad.

_This has nothing to do with Hermione, does it? This is all about saving your own skin, isn't it?_

'Of course it is!' he muttered. What was this voice getting at?

_How odd. This has everything and yet nothing to do with Hermione?_

Draco shut the voice out. Now he knew what it was getting at, and he didn't want to hear it. He sighed and sat back against the cool wood of the bench. _Heat stroke, _he mused. _I have heat stroke._

Suddenly, Draco felt as though someone was nearby, watching him. His eyes flew open. No one was standing near him, but someone across the street was definitely looking in his direction. Draco squinted to make him out.

'Crap!' He threw himself off the bench and into the prickly bushes. 'Ow, damn, ow,' he muttered. Why did he always have to pick the painful bushes? Peering out, Draco saw the man again. He thought he'd seen him, but he wasn't pulling out his wand and running over, so perhaps not. _Travers, _he thought savagely, watching the Death Eater look in the shop window. _They must have sent him out. Why else would he be here? It's too much of a coincidence._

After sitting in needles for a minute or two, Draco crawled out, even more scratched than before.

'Great,' he muttered, 'just great.'

He looked down at Hermione's cloak. It had a few tears in it from the bush. 'Oops,' he said tonelessly. He looked up at where Travers had been. He was nowhere in sight, but Draco knew that didn't mean he wasn't sitting waiting somewhere. If there were Death Eaters here, there would probably be Ministry workers here, too.

Why was his life so complicated? Draco looked around and realised that someone lived next door to the park; their fence ran alongside. Making up his mind quickly, he bundled up Hermione's cloak, shoved it into his bag, then strode purposefully toward the fence. If he couldn't go by street, he'd have to go by backyards.

Several yards later, Draco was starting to think this plan wasn't a good one. He'd run into a huge dog, but had stunned it; fallen into more bushes; and been chased by a kid with a stick.

'This is _not _my day,' he grunted, as he stepped onto the tree stump in one back yard. This fence was about eight feet tall (why, he had no idea), and he had to get a bit of a boost to get over. He put his hands on the flat part at the top and jumped, using his hands as levers. He flew over the fence and landed in a pile of dirt on the other side. He stood up, trying to brush some dirt off of him. _At least it was soft, _he reasoned.

Then he heard a gasp. His head shot up and he froze as he saw a small house-elf standing by a vegetable garden, a pallet of tomato plants sitting next to it.

The house-elf squeaked and turned and ran toward the house. Draco stayed where he was, his mind trying to comprehend.

A house-elf … the eight foot fence … this is a wizard's house …. Travers … this might be a Death Eater's house!

Draco jumped out of the pile of dirt and ran toward the house, his mind working furiously. _If this is a Death Eater's house, and that house-elf tells them – I'm dead!_

The house-elf threw the backdoor shut behind it, but Draco slammed into it, forcing it open.

'Elf!' he called, stepping into the clean kitchen. 'Elf, come back here!'

He heard a betraying squeak from the next room. Ignoring the dirt he was leaving behind, Draco ran toward the doorway. Suddenly, he slipped on something and fell to the floor. He landed on his back and was partially winded, but saw the house-elf running past him. His hand shot out and caught the elf around the ankle. The poor elf hit the ground and lay there, panting and sobbing.

Gasping for air, Draco pulled himself into a sitting position and crawled over to the house-elf.

'What's your name, elf?' he demanded. The house-elf looked up at him, its big eyes bright with tears.

'You is a wizard!' it said in a high, squeaky voice which made Draco think it was a girl.

'Yeah, I am,' he replied. 'But what is your name?'

'Flipsy, sir,' said the elf, trying to hold her shaking hands still.

'Flipsy, huh?' he repeated, while wondering why all house-elves names ended with 'y'. 'Well, Flipsy, whose house is this?'

'This is the Travers residence,' she said, her voice cracking. 'And you has no right to be here.'

Draco ignored the last bit. Travers. So he was right.

'Is anyone besides you home?'

The elf shook her head.

'Good. I need you to answer some questions for me, elf.'

'I can answer no questions, sir.' Flipsy said, 'I is a good elf.'

'I don't care,' Draco snapped. 'A girl was seen not far from here with a bunch of house-elves. Do you know what that was about?'

'No, sir,' said Flipsy, 'Flipsy is a good house-elf, she wouldn't do anything against her master's wishes.'

Draco looked at her curiously.

'I never said anything about you or your master's wishes. Show me your hands.'

Flipsy squeaked and hid her hands behind her back. Draco grabbed her by the front of the pillowcase she was wearing and tugged her into a sitting position. With his other hand, his sprained one, he pulled her left hand from behind her back, wincing with the pain. Three fingers were bandaged, while there was a red spot on the back of her hand.

Draco smirked. 'Somehow, I don't think you're a great house-elf. Tell me, Flipsy.'

Flipsy shook her head furiously. 'I isn't telling my master, and I isn't telling you!'

Draco's anger mounted quickly. He'd travelled so far, to find someone he didn't like, and the first person who might know something wasn't talking! Well, he'd see about that. He pulled out his wand and put it at the elf's throat.

'Do you know who I am, elf?' He knew it was a risk, but he didn't care at the moment.

Flipsy shook her head furiously.

'I am Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy.'

The elf squeaked again.

'Yes,' he said smugly. 'I know a lot of Dark Magic, or didn't you read the paper? So I suggest you tell me where Hermione is before I curse you into oblivion.'

Flipsy started crying again, but she answered through her tears, 'I is only part of the Rebellion! I is not knowing where Hermy is!'

'Rebellion? What Rebellion?' Draco said blankly. And why were all the house-elves calling her 'Hermy'?

'I is not knowing! Only Dobby and Lopps knows!' Flipsy sobbed, her giant eyes closed.

'Lopps? Who's Lopps?' Now he was getting somewhere!

'Lopps of the Darling residence!' said Flipsy, wiping her tears away.

'Which town?' he said impatiently. Why couldn't house-elves be more specific?

Flipsy gave him a strange look.

'This one,' she said eventually. 'Waven. On Janelle's Terrace. That's the street name,' she added when Draco opened his mouth.

'Right,' said Draco, getting to his feet. His wrist was hurting, as well as the rest of his body. He stopped himself from saying thank you – after all, she was only an elf. 'Don't tell your masters I was here, or you'll be hearing from me again, understood elf?'

When Flipsy nodded, Draco put his wand away. 'Right,' he said again, then he heard a door close. Both he and Flipsy froze.

'Flipsy!' yelled a man. Draco recognised the voice of Travers. 'Where's my coffee?'

'Not a word,' Draco hissed, as he backed toward the backdoor. He opened it without turning around, keeping his eyes on Flipsy, who was busy with a kettle. He slipped out, closed the door, took a deep, shuddering breath and turned and ran across the yard. He climbed a tree expertly and leapt over the fence onto a footpath. Thank God. No more backyards.

Wiping his sleeve over his face to clear some of the dirt away, Draco set off to find Janelle's Terrace.

Two streets away from Travers' house, Draco began to relax. He was tired and hungry, but it was a few hours before he was going to stop. He was looking at the street signs, trying to find Janelle's Terrace, when he heard someone call out.

'Oy, you!'

Draco, purely out of curiosity, looked around. Two men in dark blue pants, dark blue jumpers with patches on the shoulders and dark blue helmet-type hats were striding toward him. They were wearing a black belt with some things attached to it, and both of their expressions were determined.

'Yeah, you!' called one. 'Stay where you are!'

Draco looked behind him; the man seemed to be talking to him, but he couldn't think why that would be. But he waited as the two men stopped beside him and looked sternly at him.

'Name and age, sir?' said one.

'What?' said Draco. Why should he give his name to these men?

'Name and age, sir?' repeated the man.

Draco eyed them suspiciously.

'What would you do with my name?' he said.

The two men looked at each other.

'Are you aware that trespassing is illegal, sir?' said the other man.

Now Draco was really confused. Yes, he knew that trespassing was illegal, but why would he tell them that? Were these men the Muggle law-keepers he'd heard about?

'It is if there are signs, sure,' he replied diplomatically.

'Did you know that even if there are not signs, entering someone's property without permission is illegal?'

This seemed to be heading somewhere.

'Well, sort of, I mean –'

'So wouldn't you realise that earlier this afternoon you entered a property without permission? And wouldn't you realise that it's illegal?'

Draco took a step backwards. These weren't Muggles at all – they were Death Eaters he hadn't met before. They were in disguise. They'd take him to his father, then he'd never be cleared.

'Sir, you're under arrest for trespassing and breaking and entering –' the men were advancing on him as Draco backed away. When he heard they were going to arrest him, his eyes widened. They may be putting on a good show for the Muggles around them, but Draco wasn't fooled. He knew what he had to do.

He turned and ran, pushing through the crowd of onlookers. The men were shouting something and another man tried to grab him, but Draco slid out of his grasp.

He turned the corner and sprinted down the next street, the blue men right behind him. All the while his eyes were searching for a way of escape.

'Stop!' yelled one of the men.

'Not likely!' Draco muttered to himself, turning sharply down an alley. He leapt over some rubbish bins and ran toward the pipe running up the side of the building. He grabbed hold of it and putting his feet on the metal bits that kept the pipe from falling over, and gripping with his hands, he climbed the pipe quickly, crying out every so often when his wrist bent the wrong way.

In the few seconds it took for them to get started, Draco was almost at the top of the pipe. He grabbed onto the side of the roof and pulled himself up, wincing at the pain in his wrist. He ran a few steps then threw himself behind a chimney, hiding from view. He panted as quietly as he could, trying to get more air into his burning throat and lungs.

When he heard the first man pull himself onto the roof, he held his breath, not wanting anything to give him away.

'Not here,' he heard him say to his companion. 'Must have gone on to the next roof.'

'Damn,' said the second man, panting heavily. 'All that running for nothing. We'll never catch him now.'

The first man sighed.

'Come on,' he said, 'let's go. We have better things to do than chase a street kid.'

Draco waited until he heard their footsteps echoing in the alley below before he started breathing again.

_That was close, _he thought. _Why would Death Eaters dress up like that? They're sly, that's for sure._

Draco collapsed back against the chimney, feeling as though this whole thing was much more than Hermione was worth.

Mortimor crashed into the bar with a _thud_. Cormag groaned and tried to pick himself up from the floor, but Jugson kicked him down again. Macnair gazed down at the bleary-eyed Oscar.

'Tell me where he is!' Macnair roared, then kicked him again.

'Don't!' said Mortimor, spitting out blood.

'That's enough out of you!' shouted Macnair, turning around. '_Crucio!_'

Mortimor screamed in pain as the curse wrenched through him, digging into his muscles and pressing against his bones … as it ended, Mortimor lay shivering and quiet on the floor, his eyes wide and staring.

Oscar looked up into Macnair's hooded face. These were his friends – the boy meant nothing to him, neither did the girl – he had no choice.

'All right!' he yelled, and Jugson stopped kicking Cormag. Macnair grinned. 'All right,' Oscar repeated, more quietly. 'I'll tell you, if you just leave us alone.'

'Deal,' said Macnair smugly. 'No more pain if you tell us where he went and what you know.'

Oscar took a deep, shaky breath and started talking.

'A couple of hours away there's a city called Waven –'

**PS: **I have to add that Janelle's Terrace was named after my best friend. I wonder if she's actually reading this like she said she was. Doubtful. :-) I'll be in trouble if she is now, ha ha. :-)


	12. Broomsticks and Revelations

**A/N: **Hello people! Your wish has come true at last (ish, anyway)! This is an UPDATE!! Yes, I know, so soon! :-) This isn't a long chapter – well, maybe it is, that's really up to what YOU call long. But I think it's shortER than the other chapters. So thank you to you people who read Author's Notes and here are my replies to the great reviews you guys give me, followed by the – da-da-da-daaa – CHAPTER!!! ;-) By the way, some of you may have noticed that I mentioned my best friend after the last chapter. She is actually reading my story, so I'm saying a big "Hello" to her. She is the best friend I could ask for! ::looks around nervously, in case of any flying books:: Just kidding! :-)

**Nella Radcliffe (all 3 reviews): **Thanks! What did I think of Kellie? I think she's a kind, funny, cool, generous, mischievous, brave, funny human being. What do you think of her? Please don't fall off the edge of your seat, Nella, that might be painful. And don't you dare burn your hands or I'll email Kellie and get her to go over there and GIVE YOU TIMEOUT! Yes, timeout. ::shivers:: Watch yourself, Nella. And I have all intentions of updating quickly, so yeah! :-) You will find out what's going on in 2 chapter's time. So keep reading. YAY! A person who reads A/Ns! ::hugs:: I did not diss her, I simply stated that she probably wasn't reading my stories, COZ SHE HAS A MUCH MORE ACTIVE SOCIAL LIFE THAN ME!!! ;-) And yes, she crucified me when she read that. :-) But she forgave me because she is a kind, generous, funny, awesome girl. :-)

**Muznakh**Thanks, reviews mean heaps even if not much is said. :-)

**Meg: **This is update is soon (I think, anyway)

**Larthawyn: **I'm a very technical person, so yes. :-) I wish I had an unlimited supply of confetti. Maybe I should invest of some. Do you realise my desk now has confetti ALL OVER it? ;-) It was a long chapter? Hmmm, I suppose it was, though it was shorter than **"Flight to the Servant"**. Update! Yay! Argh, more confetti! :-)

**Nathonea**Well, I'm glad you like it so far, and I hope you like it the rest of the way, too! ****

**Natalie Garner: **Woo-hoo! A Author's Note person! ::hugs::

**Karana**** Belle: **Alas, the barman and Mortimor _are _in terrible pain, yes. Yes! _Another _Author Note reader! Keep going, I'm sure the treatment will work eventually. ;-)

**Male-chan: **It was short? That's strange. Some other people were saying it was a long chapter. ::looks confused:: Er … can I ask why you wanted to rape him? Why not kiss him? Do you not like him? I got the impression that you did. ::looks even more confused:: I'm glad you think you know where she is. Let's see if you're right! :-)

**Zuvalupa**Hello again! You thought it was long too. Hmmm. How odd…

**Rebbie**A new-comer! ::waves:: Hello Rebbie! Thanks for your review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! :-)

**IMPORTANT NOTICE – EVERYONE READ!!!!: **Well, so hello there. I have an important announcement, as so many of you asked: YES, the men in blue WERE real policemen, poor Draco is just paranoid now, and he was right: he _does _have a little heatstroke. Please wear a hat in the sun, because heatstroke is most unpleasant, having suffered it myself. ;-)

**Chapter 11: Broomsticks and Revelations**

It took an hour for Draco to calm down enough to climb the pipe back down to the ground. After checking that the Death-Eaters-In-Blue were gone, he bowed his head and hurried along the darkening streets toward Janelle's Terrace. Strange name, he thought, as he checked the road signs.

Finally, he saw "Janelle's Terrace" and breathed a sigh of relief. It had started drizzling a few minutes before, and he wanted to get back inside, even if he couldn't stay there.

He headed down the street. Then he stopped as something occurred to him; he didn't know which house was the Darling's.

'Stupid elf,' he muttered, looking at the big, extravagant houses on both sides of the street. It was, he decided, all her fault. She should've told him which house to go to. Instead, though, he was stuck without a clue.

Sighing, Draco did the only logical thing; he walked straight up the garden path of the house on his right and knocked on the door.

A dark-skinned lady answered the door. She was wearing a long, pale blue dress and her dark hair was up in a bun. She was obviously expecting company, and the glare she fixed on Draco proved this theory.

'Yes?' she said irritably. 'We don't take in street urchins.'

Draco found this highly offensive. Him? A Malfoy? A _street urchin?_ He glared at the woman right back.

'Good for you,' he said coldly. It wasn't his fault he looked awful at the moment. 'Actually, I'm looking for someone. I know they live on this street, but I lost the address.'

The woman looked at him impatiently. As she wasn't shutting the door in his face, he took this as a good sign.

'The Darlings?' he asked hopefully. 'Could you tell me which house is theirs?'

'That one,' said the woman, pointing at the house across the street. 'Mind Harold, though, he's ill.'

'Thank you,' Draco replied, injecting a measure of warmth into his voice. The woman shut the door, and Draco walked back down the path. 'Snob,' he muttered.

Then the drizzle turned to proper rain and Draco was soaked though in a minute. _Great, _he thought angrily, _just great_.

He kept his head down as he ran across the deserted road and up to a bay window. He peered inside and saw that he was looking into the living room. A pale man was sitting in a recliner, being served by a house-elf. Draco held his breath. Was this Lopps? Would he finally find out where Hermione was? He hoped so, because he was cold, hungry and very wet. Not to mention pissed off.

Draco stood back from the window and tried to decide on his approach? Should he go round the back? In a house like this, security was going to be tight. Maybe he should just knock? And say what?

'Hi, my name's William Myles and I was wondering whether it would be possible to speak to your house-elf, Lopps?'

The woman studied him carefully as he said this. The direct approach never works, Lucius had always said. Which was exactly why Draco thought it was going to.

'Why?' the woman said suspiciously.

'I'd prefer to discuss this with Lopps, ma'am,' Draco said politely but firmly. The woman regarded him another moment, then stood back.

'All right,' she said, 'but make sure you stop on this mat so I can clean you up a bit. You cannot go traipsing around the house like that.'

Draco stepped inside, hardly believing his luck. The house was graciously furnished, with dark wood and cream walls. He stopped on a black mat just inside the door. The woman closed it behind him and took out her wand. Giving it a flick, Draco's clothes were no longer dripping. They were still wet, but he was not going to turn the house into a swimming pool. He did think she could've dried him off properly, but he shrugged mentally and followed her down the hall and through a double set of swinging doors.

A young-looking house-elf was washing at a low sink. He was wearing a dark blue tea towel and little white shoes. At the sound of their footsteps, he turned around. Draco was right, he did look young; only the normal wrinkles sat on his face, and his blue eyes were bright.

'Lopps?' said Draco carefully. The house-elf, after a glance at his mistress, nodded. Draco nearly collapsed with relief. Instead, he grinned at the elf. Then he turned to Mrs Darling. 'May I speak to him in private?'

Mrs Darling shook her head. 'I'm afraid not. I shall be present, but please, talk to my elf freely.'

'Right,' said Draco, turning back to Lopps. How was he going to talk to him in front of this woman? 'Lopps,' he said slowly, gauging his reactions. 'I'm William Myles –' (he was not going to use his real name in front of wizards) '– and I've just come from seeing Flipsy. She told me to come to you.'

Did Lopps suddenly look both fearful and defiant?

'Someone I know has gone missing.' _That's better_, he thought. 'And after some investigating, apparently the person I need to see is you.'

'Lopps?' said Mrs Darling suddenly. 'What's this?'

'I is not knowing, Miss,' said Lopps, his eyes glancing from Draco to his mistress. 'I is never seeing William Myles before.'

'I know you haven't!' said Draco impatiently. He was not going to sit around and play games. 'But you _have _seen Hermione Granger, haven't you?'

There was a definite change in Lopps this time. His eye twitched and he jerked like someone had put a hot barb to his skin. Draco smirked.

'Granger?' said Mrs Darling. 'Isn't she the one from the paper?'

'Yes,' said Draco, not turning around. Suddenly, he realised what she said. _The paper _… then why hadn't she recognised him from his picture? Then he suddenly caught his reflection in the shiny metal of the fridge. His hair was scruffy and un-brushed, he was covered in mud, from the dirt he'd landed in at the Travers' mixed with the rain, he still had the scratches and bruises from the Erklings, and his wrist was bandaged to keep the sprain in check. _No wonder she didn't recognise me: even _I _wouldn't recognise me!_

He decided not to push his luck, though, and didn't turn around. Instead, he continued to address Lopps.

'Where is she, Lopps?' Draco said. 'What's going on and where is she?'

'Lopps isn't knowing,' said Lopps, trembling.

'Don't lie to me, Lopps! Flipsy told me that you know! Now _I _want to know!' Draco was almost yelling by this time. He was angry, frustrated and impatient. 'Tell me what you know!'

'I is –' Lopps began, but –

'Lopps, I order you to tell the boy what you know,' Mrs Darling said promptly. Draco had the feeling she just wanted to get this crazy kid out of her house, but he still felt grateful to her.

Lopps took his ears in his hands and twisted them feverishly.

'I is forbidden to tell everything,' he said quietly. 'But I is knowing where Hermy is.'

'Where?' Draco demanded, kneeling in front of Lopps. 'Where is she?'

Lopps leant forward, his large eyes darting around the room as he did so.

'She is at Oceanbreeze,' he whispered, then squeaked and pulled his ears over his eyes, trembling from head to foot.

'Oceanbreeze?' Draco repeated blankly. That name rang a bell, but why? 'What's Oceanbreeze?'

'I is not telling!' squeaked Lopps from behind his ears. 'I is not telling William Myles!'

Then he sat down, hard, on the floor. Draco blinked. Then he sighed and stood up.

'Lopps,' began Mrs Darling, but Draco interrupted.

'It's OK,' he said, 'I think that's all I'll get out of him. Thanks ma'am.'

'That's all right,' she said, 'Come on, I'll show you out.'

She turned and led him out of the kitchen and back down the hallway. Draco shot one more look at Lopps before leaving. As he passed the living room doorway, he glanced inside. The pale man was now asleep in the recliner.

'Harold,' said Mrs Darling, making Draco jump. 'He's been ill for weeks.'

Draco turned around. Mrs Darling was holding the door open and smiling slightly at him. The rain pelted down behind her, looking very uninviting.

'I hope Lopps was of help to you. I think it's awful that Malfoy has done such a thing. That whole family is bad news.'

Draco glared at her, furious.

'The whole family is _not _bad news,' he said hotly. 'And Malfoy didn't do it either: that I know for a fact.'

Mrs Darling looked at him shrewdly, then looked out at the rain.

'Where are you sleeping tonight, Mr Myles?' she asked suddenly, looking back at him.

Draco was taken aback. He hadn't thought about it because there was nothing to think about. He had turned into a street kid and hadn't worried about his sleeping arrangements at all that day. The moment this thought struck him, he felt shocked. The dark-skinned lady across the road had called him a "street urchin". Had he really become one?

_Not in only a few days, _said that helpful little voice. _It would take much longer than that to turn a Malfoy into a street urchin._

Suddenly, he looked back up at Mrs Darling, falling out of his thoughts.

'Out there,' he said, gesturing to the rain with a gulp. 'Somewhere.'

She looked at him pityingly. Then she glanced around and seemed to make her mind up about something.

'Would you like to stay here?' she said kindly.

'What?' said Draco stupidly.

'Would you like to stay the night?' Mrs Darling repeated. 'We have a spare bedroom which I think you'd find most comfortable.'

'But – you've only known me for a few minutes!' he protested. He felt this woman should know what she was getting into.

'We always let homeless children and teenagers stay,' she said, 'This house is rather big for just Harold and I. We like helping others. And you seem in need for help. You are a wizard?'

'Yes,' said Draco, his mind running to keep up. Was he going to sleep in a nice, warm bed and have a shower?

'Then you are more than welcome. I haven't talked to a wizard in ages; it would be a nice change.'

Draco thought this over. The possibility of a warm bed and a hot shower were overpowering, especially as he was chilled to the bone from his clothes. But what if this was a trap? What if she _did _recognise him, and hadn't wanted to let on because she wanted to Floo the Ministry?

'All right,' said his voice suddenly. It was almost as if his mind had a voice of its own, one he couldn't control. 'If you'll have me here, it would be preferable to the rain.'

So that was how, twenty minutes later, Draco was standing in a cream room with fluffy blue carpet and double bed, a new set of clothes slung over the back of a mahogany chair, a towel sitting on the chair, and a tray of hot food sitting on the small dressing table by the door.

Mrs Darling had left him there with instructions on how to use the shower and to eat as much food would suit him; the tray would keep refilling itself.

Sighing with happiness, Draco went into the bathroom to find another towel and a pair of dark green pants, which he presumed were for him to sleep in. Not exactly what he was accustomed to, but he wasn't going to complain. How far he'd come in a few days.

He turned on the shower and let the hot water steam up the bathroom a bit before stripping off his clothes and stepping under the hot spray of water. He closed his eyes as the water ran over his head and face and down his healing back and chest. Yet as his body was in heaven, his mind was still clouded with worry and annoyance. He had the distinct feeling he was running out of time, but he didn't know how he knew, or what would happen if that fear was realized.

A few minutes later Draco stepped out of the shower and into the pyjama pants. He dried himself off as much as possible, but his hair was still damp. He felt much more like a Malfoy. And he was so tired … he'd slept heavily the night before, but a drink-induced sleep isn't exactly restful.

So he went back into the room, sat down on the edge of the bed with the tray and ate all he could – which was surprisingly little. Lopps had given him so much to think about, and yet he had given him nothing at all. What was 'Oceanbreeze', and why did Draco recognise it?

He put the tray back on the dressing table and crawled into the bed, still thinking. Was he any closer to finding Hermione? What would happen to him if he went back to Hogwarts without her? He knew exactly what would happen, and he didn't like the sound of it. He wondered –

When he woke up, everything seemed to have clicked into place. It was so obvious. It was still dark in his room, but Draco had never felt more awake. He lay thinking about his conclusion for a moment or two, then jumped out of bed and pulled the pants off. He strode across the room and pulled on the clean set of clothes, then grabbed his now-dry pack and stuffed a heap of food from the ever-plentiful tray into it, along with a replenished supply of water. He then grabbed a piece of parchment and quill from one of the drawers in the dressing table, and wrote a hurried note:

_Mrs Darling,_

_Thank you so much for your hospitality, it's been wonderful. I'm sorry I couldn't stay until morning, but I've had a brainwave and can't wait a moment longer to leave. I'm very sorry about taking the broomstick, but I swear I'll give it back to you once this is all over._

_Thanks again,_

_William Myles_

He had almost written 'Draco Malfoy', but had thankfully remembered in time.

Draco opened his door warily, then, seeing the cost was clear, hurried along the hall and down the stairs out into the front hall. He trod carefully, in case Harold was still in his recliner. He grabbed a Nimbus Two-thousand from an umbrella stand by the front door. Then he unlocked the door, stepped outside, pulled it closed and muttered '_Colloportus.' _After hearing the _click_, Draco ran down the wet garden path, thanking Merlin that the rain had stopped. Checking his watch, he saw that it was just before six o'clock. He wondered how early early-morning joggers started. Then he wondered why he was wondering that.

He began his short journey back into the heart of Waven, made psychologically easier by the fact he was clean and well-fed. He encountered only a cat that followed him for several blocks. Then he was in the busier part of town and the cat disappeared.

He would have loved to just jump on the broomstick and take off, but he needed to know where he was going. After all, he hadn't been there since he was eight.

He found the tourist shop very quickly, but had to wait an hour for it to open. He sat on the steps to the building and grinned to himself, running over his brilliant theory. When he got tired of that, he watched the early-morning joggers and business people going about their day much earlier than was warranted. Why did people want to jog in the morning? The morning was for sleeping. _Unless you've had an ingenious brainwave_, he reminded himself with a smirk.

As this thought graced him, he heard a clicking sound and a door behind him was opened. Turning around, Draco saw a man had just opened the glass door to the Tourist Information Centre. He was middle-aged and balding, but he had a friendly smile and bright green eyes. For some reason, Draco was reminded of Harry. With a slight pang, he wondered briefly how he and the Weasel were coping without their brain.

'Aren't you up a little early?' said the man brightly.

'No,' said Draco shortly, standing up and stretching. He followed the man inside and was greeted by the sight of many coloured brochures and tables of souvenirs.

'What can I help you with this morning, then?' said the man cheerfully, taking his place behind the counter.

'I'd like a map,' Draco said instantly. 'To Evelyn Port.'

'Evelyn Port,' muttered the man, as he dug through a pile of maps on the counter next to him. 'Here we are!' He pulled a map out with a flourish and handed it to Draco. 'Marked on it are the tourist attractions and hotels. I hope you find it helpful.'

Draco, who was looking at the map, grinned. 'I think I will,' he said brightly, then pulled out a couple of notes of Muggle money. The man handled the transaction, and Draco was quickly back out on the street.

He shoved the map into his backpack and looked around. Many people were out and about now, walking dogs, going to work, still jogging… then someone caught his eyes.

He was standing across the street from Draco, and was definitely looking in his direction. Draco squinted to make out the man's face. His eyes were gold and had a strange pupil, like that of a bird. He smirked and nodded his head a little in Draco's direction, who felt the instant jolt of suspicion and fear. Then the strange man was joined by someone else – Travers!

Travers saw Draco and smirked also. The men muttered to each other, while Travers raised his hand in a mock wave. Draco turned around so they couldn't see his face and swore quietly. Great. More Death Eaters. That was all he needed.

Draco turned and, clutching his broomstick, walked quickly down the street that ran alongside the Tourist Information Centre. He knew now he was being followed. The feeling he'd gotten from the Death Eaters – the strange one wasn't there to see Travers on a social visit, Draco was sure of it.

Breaking into a run, Draco rounded the next street and was soon crouching behind a large tree. There were still clouds, which would give him good cover, even if they would make him a bit wet. He peered out to see whether anyone was watching, but they didn't appear to be. He hadn't seen the Death Eaters since he'd left the on the main street, but that didn't mean anything. They were trained not to be seen.

Taking a deep breath, Draco climbed onto the broomstick and kicked off. He rose almost vertically, wanting height more than distance. As he rose through the clouds, he shivered, and when he emerged out the other side, his clothes were damp.

'At least they're not soaked,' he muttered to himself, then levelled out his broom. He was hidden from the Muggles below, now. Grinning with more happiness than he'd even felt at the prospect of a shower, he flattened himself onto his broom and sped up, now a white and black blur against grey clouds as he hurtled toward Oceanbreeze and Hermione.

**ANOTHER IMPORTANT NOTICE: **Stay tuned because the end is drawing nearer! 3 Chapters to go! Next Chapter: Harry, Ron and Ginny make a discovery of their own; er… we see the Death Eaters again! More of a filler/explaining chapter than action, but stuff still happens. It's short, just to keep you drooling for Hermione! ;-) See the girl herself in 2 chapters!!!


	13. Tracing Another's Steps

**A/N: **Woo! Hey people! As you may remember me saying last chapter, this chapter is just a filler to let you know where these guys are so it makes sense later. :-) Not great, I wrote most of this when it was very late at night, hence Ron's obsession with the TV. ;-) You'll get it. Not very long and kind of moves quickly in a slow way … ::yawn:: Please read though, otherwise you'll be confused later!! Oh, there's a more helpful bit in there too with the Death Eaters … :-$ ::shuts up:: Enjoy!! And please – have a muffin! ::hands over a muffin to every single person who's reading this A/N::

**Zuvalupa**Why, thank you! :-)

**SimplySagittarius: **Woo! I have an non-uber-corny story!! ::dances:: Thank you! :-) Yay! Another A/N reader! ::does the 'A/N' dance:: By the way, as both my other fics are one-shots, I'll reply to your reviews here: First of all, thank you for reading all of them (did you know you're the first and only one who's reviewed to "Happy For The First Time". :-) Thank you! (I also thought it was DM until the end – then I had to rewrite some stuff! ;-) But at least I gave you a shock! :-)) Plus, I actually hate that ship, but it just turned into it … bleck. ;-) For "Pills and Pain": Oh, thank you so much for that wonderful review! ::hugs:: I think Draco is a real person with depth and some people – even those who write lovefics with him – just don't convey that. I love Ginny! She's so fiery and cool. I make her a part in every story, even if it's a small one. :-) You rule, SimplySagittarius, please keep reviewing! :-)

**Meg: **Updating now, though it's not really soon, is it? :-/ Sorry.

**Male-chan: **Some of them are around that length once I've skipped a line, but they are generally about six or seven pages long. If you want to see a long chapter, check out the Draco Trilogy by Cassie Claire. She's awesome. I first read Draco Dormiens two years ago and that really got me onto fanfiction. Hey, I'm plugging someone else's work! :-$ ::shuts up:: I see about the rape thing. He's very unspeakable. ;-)

**Eriador**Go the suspense!! :-)

**LovinLovegood1: **Woo! My first A!! What do you mean, finish sooner??? The chapters are coming as quickly as they can – 2 CHAPTERS TO GO!!! This is a novel fic, unable to be finished in 3 0r 4 chappies. Thanks anyway. :-)

**Larthawyn: **Yo! Larthawyn! How you doing?! :-) It was nice of Mrs Darling, wasn't it? Convenient for me, too. ;-) Not much happens in this chapter, either, sorry, but the next one will be good. Hopefully. ::scoops up confetti from desk and deposits it in bag. Then reaches in for homework assignment:: Whoops. :-) Sorry. ::flattens it out and grins::

**Natalie Garner: **Woo! Hey, Natalie! Welcome to the Reviewing section of the chappies! :-)

**Nella Radcliffe: **Yes, Draco is close … ::whispers:: so very, very close… ::resumes normal speaking voice:: Ahem. ;-)

**Chapter 12: Retracing Another's Steps**

Harry was right: without a break from flying, he, Ron and Ginny managed to get to a small village soon after nightfall.

They landed on the edge of town, where it was still dark, and walked towards the houses, broomsticks slung over their shoulders. None of them talked much, except for the odd comment or two ('That's a strange looking bush'; 'It's a little warmer down here, isn't it?').

In their minds, all three of them were running through what Dobby had told them, and wondering whereabouts Malfoy was. As their footsteps echoed on the dry ground, Ron voice for the first time what they had all been thinking.

'So he didn't take her – Malfoy, I mean.'

They all knew who he'd meant.

'No,' said Harry tonelessly, 'I suppose not.'

'But this doesn't let him off the hook!' Ron said firmly, as though trying to convince the other two. 'He still acted in an unacceptable way towards Hermione, and he'll be punished.'

'Good,' said Harry, 'he deserves it.'

Ginny, who hadn't said anything so far, piped up. 'He does, but do you think we were a little hard on him?' she said.

'What? No. So what if he didn't kidnap her? He still attacked her.'

'Yes, I suppose –'

'Don't worry, Gin, he won't get charged with kidnapping – oh, what about this place?' Harry changed subject abruptly as they approached an inn. They were all tired and Ron had already dismissed two possibilities.

'_Collanew's Inn of Serenity_?' Ron said. He snorted. 'Yeah, right; it sounds like a health spa…'

'So what?' Ginny snapped, stepping in front of her brother to stop him walking. 'I'm tired, Harry's tired, and – believe it or not – you're tired, too. We're going to stay _here!_'

She sounded so forceful that Ron agreed and the trio walked up the front steps.

'Nice picture,' Ron said sarcastically, motioning the dagger entwined in a rose. Ginny sniffed but didn't answer. She pushed open the door and led the way inside. The fire was burning fiercely and the three Gryffindors sighed happily. Then, Ginny let out a startled cry, jerking Harry's eyes open.

'Luna!' she exclaimed, staring at the bemused-looking Ravenclaw standing beside a woman who looked remarkably like her, except that she had red hair. 'What – what are you doing here?'

Harry and Ron were staring at Luna too. It wasn't holidays: why was she out of school?

Luna smiled at them.

'Hello Ginny, Harry, Ronald,' she said in her vague way. 'What are you doing here?'

'We asked you first!' said Ron quickly as Harry opened his mouth.

'Daddy's ill,' she said sadly, 'and he's in a hospital near here, so I'm staying with my auntie here. This way I can go and see him.'

'Why isn't he in St Mungos?' said Ron, at the same time as Ginny said, 'Will he be OK?'

'He'll be fine in a few weeks,' Luna said in reply to Ginny's question. 'And St Mungos is too far away: this hospital is much closer,' she nodded in Ron's direction as she said this. Then she looked fondly up at the woman and grinned. 'This is my Aunt Abernillie. She runs this inn, has done for years.'

'Hello,' said Abernillie, smiling vaguely at them all. Her eyes slid from Ron to Ginny to Harry and rested on his scar for a moment before going off to stare at the fire. _So this was where Luna had inherited her dottiness_, Harry thought, bemused.

'Anyway,' said Luna, drawing all their attention back to her. 'What are _you _lot doing here?'

'Hermione,' said Ginny, before Ron could answer. 'She was kidnapped – well, we thought she was kidnapped – well, actually she is, kind of –'

'Dumbledore's in London and she's in danger, so we're going to get her ourselves.' Harry finished off the small story, shooting an amused look at Ginny, who blushed.

'That's brave of you,' said Abernillie, looking at Harry. He nodded, unsure of what to say.

'It is,' agreed Luna, who, unlike her aunt, was looking at Ron.

'Er,' Ron said, then looked around, apparently taking in their surroundings. Ginny hid a grin and turned to Abernillie.

'Have you seen any other wizards in the last few days by any chance?' she asked. Ron and Harry's heads whipped around: why hadn't they thought of that?

'Many wizards pass through here on their journey to redeem themselves,' said Abernillie, turning her unblinking gaze to Ginny. They all looked at each other. 'But there is one I remember particularly clearly,' she continued. 'He was here only this morning, actually. Strange boy. Quite abrupt and rude, but oddly charming.'

'Malfoy,' said Ginny instantly. Ron snorted and looked at her incredulously.

'Malfoy is not _charming_,' he said, but no one was listening to him.

After getting a description of his appearance, Harry, Ron and Ginny had a hurried discussion about what they should do.

'I say we go after him!' Ron said fiercely.

'No,' Harry argued, 'he's already hours in front of us, and we need sleep.'

'Harry's right,' said Ginny, 'I can't stay awake much longer.'

'Ok.' Ron said grumpily, and he and Harry turned to negotiate a room with Abernillie. Ginny, however, turned to Luna.

'Are you sure your dad will be OK?' she said, as Ron asked what on earth a TV was.

'Yes,' said Luna, but there was a sad glint in her eyes. 'He'll be fine in a few weeks.'

Ginny sighed as Harry said they didn't need a TV, and Ron got louder in his asking what a damn TV was.

'What's wrong with him?' she asked, trying to ignore the racket behind her.

'They're not sure,' Luna admitted, 'They just know he's ill. It's not serious, though, don't worry.'

Just then, Ron said, 'What in the bloody-name-of-Merlin is a _TV_?'

'A box with pictures that move with sound,' Ginny said impatiently, as Harry paid for their room and Abernillie gave him their room key. 'We have to go to sleep,' Ginny added apologetically to Luna, 'Sorry.'

'Don't apologise, I understand. I'm going to bed, too. I'll see you tomorrow.'

After goodnights were said, Harry, Ron and Ginny went through the red-wood door and found their room (number 23). Once inside, they dumped their bags of stuff and fell onto their beds. Ginny didn't know how, but somehow Harry had got them a room with three single beds. She was so tired she fell asleep right there, with Harry and Ron talking about Luna and her strange aunt.

The morning came too quickly for Ginny, who felt like she hadn't slept at all, but was strangely refreshed.

She got up, showered and dressed before the boys woke, but they were both quicker than her in the bathroom. They heaved their bags up, grabbed their broomsticks and left the room, Ron locking it behind them.

As soon as they entered the front room, Abernillie smiled at them.

'Good morning!' she said cheerfully. 'Luna's still asleep; she was up a little later than you last night.'

Her eyes then focused on the front door and the trio looked at each other uncertainly.

'Well,' said Ron at last. 'I wish we could stay and see Luna, but we have to keep moving.'

'Yes, but do say goodbye for us, won't you?' Ginny added. She felt bad for leaving before seeing Luna, but Ron was right, for once.

'Of course,' said Abernillie, smiling at Harry's left elbow. 'She'll understand.'

'Right,' said Harry, moving out of her line of vision. She was even stranger than Luna, this woman.

'Have a nice flight,' Abernillie added. They didn't even bother to ask her how she knew they'd be flying: their broomsticks were a dead give away. What had Harry wondering was why she sounded like an aeroplane attendant.

As they walked outside, Ginny turned to Ron.

'How far to Oceanbreeze?' she asked as they mounted their brooms. Ron pulled out a map and frowned as he looked over it.

'Almost two days. We'll get to Evelyn Port Tuesday evening, so if we spend the night there we can get Hermione in the morning. It's only a little way from there to Oceanbreeze.'

'Right,' Harry said, looking over at Ron. 'So where are we staying tonight?'

Ron consulted the map again. Harry had the distinct impression Ron fancied himself an explorer, constantly checking the map.

'Arvanvale's as good as any,' he said. 'It's just over a day's ride away, but we should make it tonight if we hurry.'

So with this in mind they kicked off from the firm ground and rose into the chilly morning air. There weren't many people around, but they rose as high as they dared anyway, just in case.

They didn't land for the entire day, and Ginny dealt out some food at lunchtime, while they were still in the air, and they ate it while they were flying. Each was thinking the same thing, but none was feeling hugely worried. Malfoy was only about six hours ahead of them; they could catch up easily, if he didn't know where he was going.

As night fell, they reached the edge of the lighted village that was Arvanvale. They didn't descend until they saw a dark house: they were obviously out, and that was a good spot to land, close to the centre of town.

They were all cold from the flight, so as they walked around the side of the house, they pulled on their cloaks.

'Where's a good place we can stay?' Ginny asked Ron as they emerged onto the street.

'What do I look like, a brochure?' Ron snapped, pulling his cloak tighter; his cloak was worn and not as warm as it should be.

After a moment's silence, he said grudgingly: 'The Farley's a good hotel. Not too expensive, but nice.'

Harry hid a grin as Ron led him and Ginny along the street and down another one, until they reached a two-story brick building with green roof.

'This is it,' said Ron, and he walked up the path, pushed open the door and walked into the warm, brightly lit foyer, followed closely by Harry and Ginny.

Mulciber laughed as Jugson sent the house-elf out the room.

'It's good that you found the only wizarding hotel in Waven!' he said to Nott, who smiled tightly.

'You just have to know where to look,' he said softly. But then he was frowning again. Mulciber noticed this before Jugson.

'What is it?' he asked. Jugson stopped grinning and looked over at Nott.

'Yeah,' he said, 'we got the information from that drunk about where he was heading. So what's wrong?'

'What's wrong is that we may know Draco _came _here, but we don't know where he is now, or where the Mudblood is. We searched and found only evidence that they'd been there. We have no idea where any of them are now.' Nott glared at them both. 'We are not going to be in the Dark Lord's good books, boys,' he said softly but dangerously.

A moment passed as they all contemplated this. Then a _popping _noise made them all look up. Travers and Brockwit were striding toward them with smug expressions.

'What is it?' said Nott irritably. What did they have to be so smug about?

'We,' began Travers, 'have just seen Draco. _And _we know where he's going!'

'What?' Nott sat up straighter. 'How?'

'Ah, my dear friend,' said Brockwit, winking, 'you forget my asset to the Dark Lord.'

Mulciber nodded, his eyes on Brockwit's.

'The eyes of a hawk,' he said quietly.

'Yes!' exclaimed Brockwit, apparently delighted. 'My eyes are like that of a hawk's; I saw him holding a map with the title: "_Waven – __Evelyn__Port__"_.'

'Evelyn Port?' repeated Nott thoughtfully. 'I wonder what he's doing there?'

He looked up at his fellow Death Eaters, who all looked eager and hungry.

'Brockwit, Apparate to Malfoy Manor – you won't be able to Apparate inside, so go to just outside the gates. Inform Lucius and the others we know where he is. Meet us in Evelyn Port. Mulciber,' Nott continued, turning to him, 'see whether that anti-tracing charm has worn off yet. Travers and Jugson, you'll come with Mulciber and me.'

Then he grinned a nasty, evil grin.

'Boys,' he announced, 'it's time to have some fun!'

The Death Eaters all whooped and cheered, then Brockwit Disapparated and Mulciber sat down in front of the map and pulled out his wand.

'Let's see where you are, boy,' he muttered.

**A/N: **Woo again! Lookie where we're at! Next Chapter: Draco and Hermione meet (finally!); some is revealed; house-elves, Death Eaters, explosions, running, screaming … does it make you want to read? ;-D


	14. Oceanbreeze

**A/N: **Here it is, the meeting between Draco and Hermione. I actually finished it a long time ago, but it badly needed tweaking. And I've already finished the story, so the quicker you reply, the quicker everything will become clear to you! ;-)

**Larthawyn: **I'm good. :-) I had to have my strange looking bush. Something to add. ::shrugs:: Actually, I came up with the name "Abernillie" last year, I just hadn't found a way to use it, yet. ;-) In the books, it's kind of hinted that Luna finds Ron fascinating and perhaps likes him, so that was what I was going for here. :-/ Hope it worked. Er… the number 23? Should there be significance? ::looks puzzled:: I've fixed the little bit, coz it turns out my page breaks don't work, so I've added a little note that says the Gryffindors went into the foyer, then it crosses over to the Death Eaters. Sorry for the confusion. :-/

**Dotty: **Thank you for that lovely comment. I will ignore what you said about updating quickly, though. ;-)

**Zuvalupa**Thanks so much! ::bows:: :-)

Gah! 3 reviews!! ::sobs:: was that chapter _that _bad? :-/

**Chapter 13: Oceanbreeze**

It was late Tuesday afternoon when Draco got his first sight of Evelyn Port. The sun was starting to lower itself towards the horizon and the orange that was tinting the sky fell across a small village against the backdrop of the ocean. Even Draco had to admit it was beautiful.

He stopped and hovered in the air, letting the view sink into his mind and skin. He felt strange; as if something was just out of his reach but he was pulling it closer with his mind.

Below him, he could hear people laughing and talking loudly. Looking down, several people came out of a pub, holding onto each other.

_My goodness, _Draco thought, slightly amused. _It's not even dark and they're already drunk!_

Luckily for him, no one looked up and he spotted a clear spot behind the pub to land. He looked at it carefully for a moment; one thing he'd learnt over the last few days was never to take something easy for granted. And sure enough, a man stumbled out the back door and threw up in the garbage bin. Draco tried to ignore the retching sound and only looked down when he heard the door close; the man was back inside.

Taking a deep breath, Draco dived quickly and landed gently next to the rubbish bins. He grinned and started breathing normally again; then he blanched and stopped. The smell of vomit was overpowering and it made his stomach lurch, as though he was also going to be sick.

Putting a hand over his nose and mouth, he put his broomstick down behind a bin and pushed the door open into the bar.

It was more of a nightclub. There was loud music with lyrics that were unrecognisable, women dancing and drinking and men drinking and laughing. Cigarette smoke clouded the air and Draco wondered for a moment whether he should have just stayed outside with the vomit.

Then, trying to ignore the putrid fumes, he uncovered his face and went up to the bar. He had absolutely no intention of even having _one _drink, but he needed to know where Oceanbreeze was.

'Excuse me!' he said loudly to the woman behind the bar. She was wearing a white tank top and her blonde hair was falling in waves down her front.

'What'll it be, sexy?' she replied cheekily, reaching toward a bottle.

Draco blinked, then ignored what she said.

'Do you know how to get to Oceanbreeze?' he asked her, leaning closer so she could hear him.

'An oceanbreeze? Alright!' she grabbed a bottle.

'No!' he yelled. So that was what Muggles named their drinks. 'Do you know how to get to OCEANBREEZE? It's an old inn –'

'Sorry, love,' she said loudly, as a man beckoned to her. 'I ain't no tourist booth.'

She sidled away from him and Draco sighed. It was almost impossible to hear himself think in this place, let alone get his point across. He turned and looked into the crowd of people around him. Surely one of them must know?

'Hey,' he said to a girl who couldn't have been much older than him. She was wearing a red leather dress and her brown hair was tousled. Her face was red and she was panting, though she looked ecstatic.

'Hi,' she said cheerfully, manoeuvring over to him. 'What's your type?'

'What? No, no type,' he told her, and she nodded, her smile fading a little. 'I was just wondering – do you know how to get to Oceanbreeze? It's an inn a little way from here.'

Suddenly, arms were around his waist from behind.

'Hey gorgeous,' purred a voice in his ear. He turned around with difficult and saw a middle-aged woman smirking at him. He was shocked. What kind of places did Muggles go to? He roughly removed her arms. Then the girl in the leather dress grabbed his arms.

'Get your hands off, Grandma, he's mine,' she said nastily. The woman pouted but moved away.

Draco was about to correct this girl, but she was already business-like.

'Yeah, I know Oceanbreeze,' she said, 'Come on, let's go out the back, I can hardly think in here!'

She grabbed his hand and led him back the way he'd come in. He was just thinking that perhaps this wasn't a good idea when she pushed the door open and pulled him out into the cold air.

'OK,' she said. 'When you leave here – by the front door –' her eyes twinkled '- turn right and keep going down this road. When you reach the T-junction, turn right -'

Ten minutes later, Draco was on his broomstick and following a deserted road out of Evelyn Port. In the short time he'd been in the bar, night had fallen. He was still feeling a little shaken about the bar – that was an experience he never wanted to relive.

_Wait, _he thought suddenly, _there's the road – _

He turned right sharply and had to dive lower so he could skim under the thick branches on the trees that hung over the road. He was nearly there. He was surprised at how business-like the girl was – and also very grateful. He didn't feel like himself, and he certainly didn't feel like charming his way into information. It was lucky he'd met her – it might have been hours by the time he got directions otherwise.

Suddenly, he felt as though he was being watched; the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he broke into goose bumps. He looked quickly over his shoulder but saw no one. Not even a flicker of movement followed him, but he still sped up – there was something there and he had the feeling once again as though he was running out of time.

He followed the road as it curved right – then the trees disappeared. He was still above the road, but it had turned to gravel and the trees had ended – he was looking at an inn that had gone out of business years ago – Oceanbreeze.

It was two-story, but the upper floor looked as though it comprised as one or two rooms. A wide veranda ran all the way around the house, with steps at the back and at the front. The house itself was white weather-boards, but the paint was peeling; the veranda a shade of light blue. Half the posts looked rotted, but it hadn't collapsed yet, so that was helpful. The windows were covered from the inside with black cloth, but around the edges of one of the windows, Draco could see flickering fire-light.

He suddenly felt as though the thing that was following him was closing in. Panicking, Draco landed by the steps that led to the front door and got off his broom rather clumsily. He looked around, scanning the darkness carefully, before depositing his broom and bag in a large bush. He figured they'd be safe there.

He ran up the steps and walked to the front door, shaking slightly. He reached out to the brass handle and tried to turn it, but it was locked. A crunching sound on the gravel driveway made him jump and look around. Seeing nothing, he pulled out his wand. He may not be able to see it, but he was sure it could see him, and he wasn't going to be attacked. Not now.

Glancing back into the dark, he turned and ran around the corner and down the outside of the house, his footsteps pounding on the wooden veranda. As he skidded around the last corner, he could have sworn he heard loud laughter – it sounded far away, but it gave him an odd chilling sensation; the girl had said no one had been here in years. So why was there laughter?

He slowed to a walk once he had the back door in sight and let out a long breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Reaching out his left hand, he grabbed the door handle turning it cautiously. The door opened silently. Draco held his wand up and peered into the gloom.

'_Lumos_,' he muttered and light sprung to the end of his wand. He walked into the room, shutting the door behind him – he didn't want whatever was out there to get in. The room had a sofa and some small tables – there was a card table set up in the corner. There was a fire, but it didn't look as though it had been lit for years (which, he reminded himself, it probably hadn't.). The whole room was spotless, which confirmed some of his suspicions. Nothing was out of place; there was not a scrap of dust or any other rubbish.

After giving the room a quick look, Draco proceeded into the next room, moving quickly.

This was the room where the fire was on; there was a pool table sitting in the middle of the room; a bar on the left side and the fire was on the right. There was an armchair next to the fire and it looked as though there was something in it –

'Hermione?' Draco asked softly – his voice seemed to have stopped working.

There was a quick movement and the something jumped up – Hermione was in her school uniform, minus her cloak and looking tired and extremely stunned.

'Malfoy?' she said incredulously, staring at him. If she expected anyone to come for her, it certainly wasn't him!

He could have hugged her – here she was, tired, messy and pale, but she was alive and unhurt! That was more than he'd hoped for. However, Draco thought better of it and instead crossed the room to her.

'What are you doing here?' asked Hermione, taking a step back.

Draco blinked.

'I've come to save you,' he said blankly. Then he started getting angry. He had thrown away all comforts and logic to travel for days to find one of his enemies, not to mention getting chased by dogs and Death Eaters, and here she was throwing it all back in his face!

'Save me?' Hermione repeated, looking at him as though he was ill. 'Why would you want to save me?'

'Because they think I've kidnapped you, and by saving you I'm saving me,' he snapped, glaring at her.

Hermione glared right back.

'And what about Harry and Ron?' she demanded. 'Why haven't they come to get me?'

'How the hell should I know?' Draco said angrily. 'Look, there's a plot among the Death Eaters to kidnap you for their own purposes and I have a feeling –'

'I know about the Death Eaters,' Hermione interrupted.

'You do?' asked Draco.

'And I know about you,' she said, taking another step back.

'What are you talking about?' said Draco exasperatedly. 'How do you know about the Death Eaters?'

Hermione opened her mouth, but there came a loud laugh from behind Draco. Hermione's eyes widened in horror and Draco spun around.

Lucius Malfoy stood in front of a small group of Death Eaters and they were all smirking at them.

'She knows because of the house-elves,' Lucius said silkily. 'Surely you've figured that part out, haven't you, son?'

'What – yes, but –' Draco was really confused. How had they gotten here? They must have followed him – but he hadn't seen them – loud laughter – _them!_

'Thanks for leading the way here, boy!' laughed Jugson, who was standing between Nott and Mulciber.

'What?' Draco took a step back. He didn't like the way they were looking at him – as though he was a bug they desperately wanted out of the way. Behind him, he heard Hermione hiss, 'I _knew _it!'

'Knew what?' said Lucius conversationally. The group of Death Eaters took a step forward as one. At the same time, Draco and Hermione took a step back. Draco's heart was beating too fast and it was almost choking him.

'I knew he was in this with you!' Hermione said loudly. Draco stopped and turned to face her.

'What?' he said. 'I'm not in this with them – it's because of them I had to come get you in the first place!'

The words were barely out of his mouth before he realised he'd said the wrong thing. Her eyes widened and she took a step away from him, her mouth open.

'No, that's not what I meant!' he said desperately.

'Enough talk,' said Lucius from behind him. 'Get her.'

Hermione screamed and Draco spun around again. Travers was launching himself toward them, a hungry look in his eyes. Draco raised his wand and bellowed, '_Petrificus__ totalus!' _Travers' arms and legs snapped to his sides and he fell with a _thud _on the ground in front of them. Lucius looked furious and he raised his wand. Draco knew his father would not go easy on him, not now.

He turned, grabbed Hermione's arm and ran with her into the next room, which was the dining room. A curse hit the doorframe as they ran through it and dust and wood fragments showered them. Hermione threw her other arm over her head and Draco kept his head down. He pointed his wand over his shoulder and yelled, _'Stupefy!' _There was a crash and he knew he'd gotten someone.

'Behind here!' Draco said as they reached a huge round table. He pushed Hermione behind it

and crouched next to her, pushing the table over to act as a shield. He looked over the top of the table and shot a curse at Mulciber. The man yelled and collapsed, his leg swelling painfully. Stimmons leapt forward furiously, pointing his wand at Draco and yelling '_Crucio!'_

Draco ducked and the curse hit the table instead of him. He looked over at Hermione, who was sitting curled up, her brown eyes gazing at him uncertainly.

'Help me!' he said furiously, as Nott called, 'Come out, come out, little Draco! We don't want to hurt you, boy, just let us have the Mudblood! What is she, anyway? You hate each other!'

'I may hate her,' Draco yelled back, looking at Hermione, 'but if I go back to Hogwarts without her, I'll be taken to Azkaban. And if I don't go back to Hogwarts, I'll be caught and sent to Azkaban anyway! It's not really a winning situation for me! Help me,' he added softly.

'I can't!' Hermione whispered back. 'The house-elves took my wand. I can't do anything!'

She looked as though she was about to cry. This just made Draco feel even more exasperated. He looked around and nodded to the next room; the kitchen.

'Get there,' he said, 'I'll hold off these goons: get into the kitchen and hide. Then get to the front door – it's locked, but smash a window if you have to.'

He peered over the top of the table; the Death Eaters were approaching, laughing.

'I can't!' Hermione whimpered. 'They'll get me.'

'No they won't,' he said, 'I'll follow you; I'll protect you –'

'Why?'

'What?'

'Why are you going to protect me?'

'I just told them,' he said angrily. And she was the smartest person in their year? 'I'm as good as dead without you. Come on!'

He crawled to the edge of the table and Hermione followed him. She seemed to accept that she needed him for now.

'Run!' he yelled, and they both leapt up and sprinted toward the door. There was yelling behind them and Hermione screamed as the Cruciatus Curse hit her in the back. She collapsed on the floor and Draco grabbed her arms and hauled her up, glancing behind them. Dolohov was laughing cruelly, his wand pointing at Hermione.

A surge of anger stabbed through Draco and he suddenly hated them all more than he ever had before. He lifted his wand and pointed it at Dolohov.

'_Rimorus__!'_Draco bellowed. He had promised himself that he would never use that curse, but desperate times … Dolohov yelled loudly as a large gash ran down his torso. Blood spilled from the wound onto the floor and his clothes.

Draco took the opportunity and lifted Hermione's trembling body from the floor and set her on her feet. 'Come on,' he said, pushing her forwards. He looked around and Lucius – his own father – made a quick slashing motion with his wand and a gash appeared in Draco's right shoulder. It was cold and stung a little, but it wasn't too bad.

They reached the kitchen while the Death Eaters clambered around the large table. Draco opened the door and pushed Hermione through.

'Hide,' he commanded and Hermione ran through the kitchen. He was about to go after her, when Lucius yelled:

'Draco!'

He ignored him and was about to go into the kitchen when his father continued.

'Are you turning soft like Adeon?' he called. Draco stopped and slowly turned around.

'What?' he said softly. Lucius was looking furious and betrayed.

'Adeon, Draco. Do you remember him? He was soft, and that's why he died! You – I thought I'd raised you differently!'

Draco was about to say something really scathing – but a fist slammed into the side of his head and he was knocked sideways into the wall. His wand slipped from his hand and he leant against the wall as his head spun and a throbbing took over all other senses, clouding his mind and vision. Everything went black for a second, then he yelped as his head gave a particularly painful throb, then there was a loud yell followed by a scream.

He opened his eyes and saw Hermione holding his wand on Nott – apparently the one who'd punched him – who was crumpled on the floor. Lucius' face was contorted with fury.

'Get her!' he spat.

Draco, coming to his senses, grabbed Hermione and they ran down the narrow hall that ran alongside the kitchen.

'Malfoy –' she panted, as they ducked a hex. 'We can take them!'

'With one wand?' he argued, pulling her around a corner. 'You don't know what they can do, Granger! I've seen them – I've been with them through training – you don't know what we're dealing with!'

He pushed a door open and they shot into a large room.

'How big is this place?' he gasped as they stopped.

'Huge,' said Hermione. 'I still don't know my way around very well.'

'Draco!' came Lucius' sneering voice. 'Don't force us to kill you! We only want the Mudblood – we won't kill her, anyway. Yet.'

There was cold laughter. Draco looked into Hermione's pale, frightened but determined face and large dark eyes – there was nothing for it. He had to do it.

He took the wand out of her hand. She looked at him, trying to slow her breathing. As the Death Eaters' footsteps drew closer, Draco took up his position behind the door, wand at the ready. He was trying to calm his own breathing – they wouldn't be able to get in all at once – he could do this.

Suddenly, there were several loud _crack_s and a dozen house-elves appeared in the middle of the room. Draco recognised three of them: Dobby, Lopps and Flipsy. They looked from Draco, pale, bleeding and wand raised, to Hermione, then Dobby hurried over to Draco and pulled him away from the door and over to Hermione.

'Sir and Miss must go!' said Dobby in a voice full of authority.

'We can't,' said Hermione desperately. 'There are Death Eaters out there, and they're blocking the exit!'

Lopps clicked his fingers and they turned around: the black cloth that covered the window was gone. Another click and the glass disappeared.

'Go,' Dobby said, and the elves started pushing them towards the window.

'But what about the Death Eaters?' Draco asked them.

'We will take care of them,' said Flipsy. 'That's why we brought Hermy here in the first place; so we can protect her.'

'Go,' Dobby repeated firmly. The footsteps outside the room had stopped.

'Draco? Mudblood? You can hide no longer!'

'Go!'

Hermione ducked through the window and landed on the veranda – luckily they were only on the ground floor. Draco pulled himself onto the ledge and dropped down beside her.

'Good luck, Dobby,' said Hermione as the elf stuck his head out of the window.

'Dobby will see Miss at Hogwarts,' he said, grinning. Then his head disappeared and there was a loud _bang _followed by yelling and more banging.

Draco and Hermione ran down the veranda, rounding the corner near the front door. Draco led the way down the steps to the bush.

'How are we going to get away?' Hermione cried as there was a loud scream from the inn.

Draco reached into the bush and pulled out his broomstick and bag. He swung the bag over his shoulder and mounted the broom.

'Hurry up,' he said to Hermione, who hesitated then climbed on behind him. 'Hold on to me,' he added and Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist tightly. 'You OK?'

'Fine,' she squeaked, and took a deep breath. Draco almost grinned, but concentrated on getting out of there. He kicked off from the ground and the wind whipped his face as he got them some height. Then he leant forward on his broom and accelerated over the trees – he knew where he was going now and height would be an advantage.

Hermione was still shaking as she clung onto Draco. She hated flying, but that wasn't her main concern – she'd never felt such pain as the Cruciatus Curse. She hadn't trusted Draco, and he'd saved her anyway – he'd nearly died for her. He probably would have, too, if the house-elves hadn't come.

'I'm sorry,' she said to him.

'What for?' he asked, as he turned sharply onto the main road.

'For not trusting you – I'm sorry.'

Draco didn't say anything and Hermione closed her eyes. The wind was freezing on her skin and it whipped through her jumper and across her legs. She shivered and huddled closer to Draco, never happier to be near him.

**A/N: **Da-da-da! :-) There we are. Did it live up to all your hopes and dreams? I hope so. Please review. ::bats eyelids:: ;-)


	15. The HouseElf Rebellion

**A/N: **Wow. Oh my God. I checked my emails 2 days after I posted the last chapter – and my inbox read 33. I thought there must have been a mistake. I was wrong: I had 33 reviews for the last chapter, and 3 more came in while I was checking them. … Wow. ::eyes are wide and amazed:: Thank you all so much for reviewing, I got a great feeling from them. Usually I answer every review personally. I'm still going to do that, for most of them. The ones that asked questions/wrote something completely _amazing _I'll reply to, but I thank every single one of you for your great feedback. ::tears of joy run down her cheeks:: Oh, and by the way, this is the last chapter, so I hope you enjoy it. :-) Another by the way note: how could I wait any longer to get this chapter to you when I got such great reviews?! I said the more reviews I got the quicker I'd update, so … ::sniffle:: I'm a gal who keeps her promise! :-)

Anyway, thanks heaps to

**ShimmeringEvil****, Nikki, Goddess-Hope, Marauder Angel, Obsessive, s1Lv3r LiLly, asdf, savvyfairy, Just Playin, hermioneattheolympics, faerie-kittie306 animelover, Meg, ****Eriador**** and Catatonic Caudillo **for your cool reviews and they left me feeling tingly. ;-)

**Corybobory**I've found the exact same problem with fan fiction, Cory: I haven't read a good one in ages (except the Draco Trilogy). I like my plot, so that means heaps to me! :-) How I love that Malfoy. ;-) You're so welcome, and thanks for your review, it almost made me cry (as corny as that sounds! :-))

**MJT13: **Yay! My fic is saved on someone's computer! :-) Actually, I made a mistake, this is the last chapter, sorry… :-/ I have 2 other fics, but neither I like as much as this one. Although Pills and Pain means something to me, it's kinda gloom-angsty. ;-) I highly doubt it was as good as J.K. Rowling's, but thatnks anyway. :-) This is last chapter, but there won't be a sequel unless I come up with something really, _really _good. That's doubtful, so probably not. My favourite SHIP is Draco/Hermione, so nearly all my stories are about them. I support almost any ship, but some are just _wrong! _::glares at own fic and shudders::

**Du**** Soleil Oriental: **I don't know if what you said was true, but if it is, I'm so glad. :-) This is probably one of the best reviews I've ever had. I hope you keep your interest in Harry Potter – rock on Du! :-)

**Ophelia Eternal: **Perky? She was _perky_? ::looks bewildered:: Hopefully this chapter will clear that up for you. She had no reason to be afraid until Draco showed up. ;-)

**Crystal Koneko: **Woo! Favourites! ::hugs:: Thanks so much! :-)

**Raisa**Draco/Hermy? That will be left up to your imagination. ;-) You can interoperate the ending any way you please. This is the last chapter, by the way. :-)

**Dizzydragon**Oh, thanks! ::hugs:: I worship the characters, so I would hate to write them out of character… ::shudders::

**Larthawyn: **Woo! You're back!! ::throws herself onto Larthawyn and hugs tightly:: I'm glad you liked it! Nah, they had more important things to worry about. ;-)

**Memmortal**You know, for someone not leaving a review, you ask a lot of questions. ;-) Am I right in guessing you like my story and that's why you're so curious? There is 1 more chapter (this one), so everything shall be explained. Of course, if you'd read the Author's Notes, you would have known that and wouldn't have had to leave a non-review. ;-)

**XxXbloody**** nekoXxX: **Updating!! ::laughs:: Calm down, Neko! ::dances:: You rule too, for telling me I rule! ;-)

**Madoleine**** Tolkein: **I love how Draco doesn't turn "good", as such, but he improves and learns some things. :-) Don't worry, all your questions (well, the ones you asked, anyway) will be answered. And even though this chapter doesn't say it, Draco got a detention for attacking Hermione. :-) It just wasn't very relevant to the end chapter, so I left it out. But since you asked … :-)

**DarkAngel**** The Vampire: **Nope, this is the last one, amigo. :-) I am also in love with Tom Felton … ::drools:: ;-) I love Draco's bad-boyness and having Tom play him in the movies really helps, even though I don't invision Tom as Draco when reading or writing. :-)

**Mad-cow: **Hey, thanks! ;-) I'll definitely be writing a book sometime because that's what I want to do with my life. But you'll never know it's me. :-/ This is the end, my friend: it's funny how everyone has been asking me this … after this, there is no more – but enjoy this last chapter! :-)

**Red Blood Black Soul: **Thank you! ::blushes:: I hope someday I will be able to be as good as JKR, so thanks! :-) Wow! ::cries again with joy:: You guys are too cool, you know that?! ::throws out muffins to the great reviewers:: Eat, drink and be merry! ::laughs:: :-) 

**Chapter 14: The House-Elf Rebellion**

Harry, Ron and Ginny had booked into a motel for the night and had gone to have dinner at a Muggle place – they were happy they were so close to Hermione (and they bet Draco wasn't anywhere near), but they were tired, and they knew she was in good hands so they decided to rest that night.

They stopped in surprise as they walked up the street toward the motel and someone landed in front of them. No – two someones.

'Hermione?' said Ginny. The three of them were staring at the sight in front of them; Hermione and Malfoy were both climbing off a broomstick, looking pale, tired and shaken.

'Hermione!' cried Ron, running forwards and pulling her into a hug. 'Are you OK? What happened? Why is _he_ here?' he added, throwing a dirty look at Draco, who resisted from rolling his eyes.

'_He,'_ he said irritably, 'just saved your friend's life, so I'd be a _little _bit more grateful if I were you.'

Ron glared at him as Harry hugged Hermione, followed by Ginny.

'Are you OK?' Harry asked her, and she nodded.

'As well as I can be, anyway,' she said, smiling weakly.

'What do you mean, you saved her life?' said Ginny, looking at Draco. 'She was with the house-elves: Dobby told us. She was fine.'

'She wouldn't've been fine for long,' said Draco angrily. Here he was, delivering their best friend and having risked his life for her (not to mention probably being disowned by his father), and they were still accusing him! 'I'm tired,' he said abruptly. 'Where's a good place to rest?'

'Right behind you,' said Harry, pointing; they were indeed standing in front of the motel where Harry, Ron and Ginny were staying. 'You two stay with us and tell us what happened.'

Ron and Draco both looked thoroughly displeased with this arrangement, but both went along with it.

A few minutes later, they were in the room Harry, Ron and Ginny had booked. The four Gryffindors were sitting on the beds talking to Hermione. Draco was in the bathroom. He was standing by the door so he could hear them, but he refused to believe he was hiding. Hermione had started telling them about the night she'd disappeared, and he didn't want to miss it.

'I went down to the kitchens,' she said, 'because Dobby had come to see me and said that he'd spoken to lots of elves about S.P.E.W. and they were really interested. He said they were having a meeting in Hogsmeade and wanted me to be their Speaker. Naturally, I agreed. That's why I needed your map, Harry,' she added, pulling the Marauder's Map from her cloak pocket and handing it to him. 'So I could be sure not to get caught on my way down.

'Anyway, so I got there, and they were all really excited about the "meeting". There were about thirty house-elves there, so I was really excited, too. Imagine if every house-elf there had wanted freedom and got it!'

Ron snorted, but Hermione ignored him.

'Well, we got to Hogsmeade, and I asked Dobby where it was we were meeting – that's when he told me there was no meeting. They told me that one of Dobby's friends – Patch, who works for the Nott's – overheard Nott saying that they were going to kidnap me and use me as ransom for Harry. He'd come to get me, and they'd kill him, then me. They love Harry, obviously, and I'm fighting for their freedom and rights, so they wanted to save both of us.

'They used some of their magic on me to make me fall asleep – when I woke up we were in a town called Waven. I was angry, but their magic's really powerful, so there was nothing I could do. I went along with it and they brought me here. It was while I was in Waven that I lost my cloak. Anyway, so they kept me in that old inn – Oceanbreeze – to protect me. They thought Malfoy was in on it, too, so when they realised he was looking for me, they got really worried. They kept an even closer eye on me. They'd cast spells all over the house so I couldn't escape – and they took my wand. I basically explored the house and sat around reading.

'Then Malfoy came.' She finished.

'What happened then?' Ginny asked excitedly. She'd already heard most of that from Dobby, but she was extremely curious about what had happened that night. She wanted to know why Draco was bleeding and why Hermione looked so pale.

Draco listened as Hermione told them all – in graphic detail – what had happened since he entered Oceanbreeze.

Then it was the others' turn. They took it in turns to say what happened to them. Nobody asked Draco what had happened since he'd left Hogwarts – he was glad. He doubted he would have told them anyway.

Inwardly, Harry, Ron and Ginny were intensely curious about what Draco had gone through, but they decided not to ask; he had avoided them since they'd got to the motel and he didn't look as though he'd share his experience.

Only when everyone had stopped talking and curled up in their respective beds did Draco leave the bathroom. He was out of place in the Muggle world enough as it was: with four Gryffindors he felt as though there was nothing that could make him feel at home.

He lay down on the couch and pulled the blanket over him. His head was still throbbing and the right side of his head and face felt like it had caved in. So he lay on his left side and after an hour of painful tossing and turning, he eventually fell asleep.

Four days later, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny was leaving the kitchen after talking to Dobby. He'd told them that the elves had fought the Death Eaters just long enough to give Hermione and Draco a head-start, and then they came to Hogwarts. They weren't sure what the Death Eaters had done once they'd left. Harry had smirked and said, 'Oh, they were punished for letting them get away.'

Hermione had supposed it was through the connection he had with Voldemort that he knew that.

As they walked into the entrance hall, they saw McGonagall beam at them as she walked up the main staircase. Students Hermione had never spoken to before had been coming up to her and saying how glad they were she was back, which surprised her. Dumbledore had been so glad when they arrived back on Friday afternoon that there had been a huge feast. The Ministry was now looking for the Death Eaters Hermione had named with Draco's help.

As this thought came to her mind, Hermione looked around. Apart from ten minutes when they'd got back, Draco hadn't spoken to any of them or looked at them. He'd avoided them all, which was particularly annoying Hermione as she hadn't got to thank him properly since he'd rescued her.

She suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder and looked into Ginny's smiling face.

'Go find him,' she said quietly, so Ron wouldn't hear. 'I'll keep these two busy.'

'Thanks, Gin,' said Hermione, smiling at her. Harry and Ron had been overly protective of her since they'd got back and wouldn't let her out of their sight. So while Ginny led them into the Great Hall, Hermione walked out the front doors and looked across the grounds, searching for him.

_There! _She saw him, down near the lake, sitting under a tree. He was easy to spot; his blond hair shone brightly in the sun. He no longer wore it slicked back; he didn't want to draw attention to himself so he tried to look like everyone else.

Hermione strode across the grounds, rehearsing what she was going to say. By the time she reached him, though, she still didn't have the faintest idea.

'Hi Malfoy,' she said, and he looked up. She thought he may have been reading, but he hadn't: he'd just been sitting, looking at the grass. 'Mind if I sit?'

He shrugged, so Hermione sat down next to him. He didn't look at her, instead focusing on the lake.

'Look, I wanted to say –' she stopped. She was not going to thank him if he refused to look at her. 'Look at me, Malfoy. Stop avoiding me and just look at me.'

Draco turned his head and looked at her. The whole right side of his face was bruised, but the initial swelling had gone down.

'That's better. Look, I wanted to say thank you for rescuing me. You didn't have to, but you did it anyway. So … thank you.'

She rocked forward onto her knees and kissed him on his good cheek. She blushed as she pulled back, but sat resolutely beside him for a minute.

'Well,' said Draco finally, still stunned by what she'd just done. 'I did have to: didn't you hear what I said? I would have been chucked in Azkaban if I came back without you.'

Something pulled at her memory – just before he'd been knocked out and she grabbed his wand –

'Who's Adeon?' she said suddenly. Draco blinked and looked away. After a minute, however, he said:

'My brother.'

'Brother?' Hermione repeated, not even trying to cover her shock. 'But you're an only child!'

'I am now,' he answered quietly. He realised he had to tell her and he sighed. 'Adeon was Mum and Dad's first son. He was quite a few years older than I was; I was only four at the time, but I still remember it. Dad loved Adeon so much; he spoiled him, but Adeon didn't let it go to his head; he was caring, kind, compassionate – and that was his downfall.

'An evil old wizard – Debbins – he thought Dad needed to toughen Adeon up. But Dad thought he was fine the way he was. So Debbins disguised himself and tricked Adeon into helping him carry his shopping into his house: Adeon was so kind he fell right into the trap, wanting to help this old Muggle. When they got inside, Debbins had decided that Adeon _was _too soft, and he killed him. Just like that.'

'That's horrible!' said Hermione, covering her mouth. 'How could anyone be so cruel?'

Draco shrugged and continued; it actually felt good to tell somebody – he didn't even think Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy knew.

'So Dad raised me differently: he loves me, I know he does, but he treats me coldly, hoping to keep me alive longer. He's afraid Debbins will find me and try to test me, too. He couldn't handle that pain. He's never been cruel to me; just cold.' His voice cracked and he stopped talking. He glanced across at Hermione and was shocked to see her in tears.

'What?' he said.

'Nothing,' Hermione replied, smiling and sniffing. 'Nothing at all.'

Draco lay back and looked up at the sky through the tree's branches. Hermione followed his lead, lying right next to him.

'I'm sorry,' she said suddenly.

'What for?'

'For putting you through what you went through.'

'You don't know what I went through.'

'I know I don't.' She turned on her side and propped herself up on her elbow, so she was looking down into his face. 'So tell me.'

Draco looked at her for a moment then remembered picking up her shaking body after she'd been hit with the Cruciatus Curse.

'All right,' he said, grinning.

And he told her.

**A/N: **Well, that's it. No more story. That's the end. I hope you all enjoyed reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it. Which was a lot, most of the time. :-) Oh, and none of you asked who Adeon was in your reviews, but if you were thinking it, I hope you're satisfied now. :-) I hope if I write another story you'll read it, but if you don't, it's OK. I have more confidence in my writing now. ::sniffles:: OK, enough of that mushy, corny stuff … Let's have an end-of-story celebration! ::cracks open the Butterbeer and throws confetti into the air, cranking up the Weird Sisters on the magical CD player:: Go people! ::laughs and dances:: Bye bye! :-)


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